


The Wizard and the Muggle

by jessicadamien



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 62,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicadamien/pseuds/jessicadamien
Summary: They say there's someone for everyone, and that includes Snape. However, can he really trust his own judgment when his heart is involved?





	1. Wishes

Chapter One  
Wishes

Lupin was staring morosely at the book he’d been pretending to read. Snape knew he made the werewolf uneasy. It was intentional. Every word he spoke to Lupin was laced in acid; every look was shot with disdain. Of the four former Gryffindors who’d made his earlier life unbearable, Lupin had caused the least pain. Still, he had been part of that group, and Snape could never forgive him.

That Lupin was now dependent upon him for the potion that got him through the full moons was an irony not lost on either of them. Lupin, for his part, showed his gratitude by letting Snape’s insults bounce off him. Snape, on the other hand, took it in turn to hand over the potion either with a long-suffering sigh of impatience, or to gloat that Lupin had never mastered enough skill to brew it himself. Juvenile, Snape knew, but satisfying nonetheless. One never outgrew some things.

Snape looked around the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. This is where Lupin now made his home, having accepted Potter’s generous offer. Black had left his estate to Potter, but the Order still met regularly here. Regularly, nowadays, meant roughly once every month. But this month the meeting had been delayed by almost a week, so Snape had had to make a special trip to give Lupin his potion.

Now that it was just the two of them in the kitchen, Snape became aware of just how nervous Lupin was in his company. Without the buffer of the Weasleys, Dumbledore, Hagrid, the Golden Trio, and other members of the Order, the silence was strained; the conversation, stilted.

Snape hated the tension in the air. He always did, unless he was the one who caused it. This particular tension felt as if it were straining for something, some sort of release. Something needed to break.

“When you’ve finally grasped the meaning of that sentence, which you must have read at least twenty times by now,” Snape said, startling Lupin, “I’d appreciate the return of some of the bottles I’ve left with you. My supplies are running low.”

Lupin stood up, keeping the chair between himself and Snape. “Certainly. I’ll just be a minute.”

He quickly left the kitchen, leaving Snape wondering. This was not just the usual moment of discomfort. Something was different. This went beyond discomfort. Was Lupin actually afraid of him? Lupin, who’d faced down Voldemort and was instrumental in the Dark Lord’s defeat? Lupin, who regularly confronted hiding Dark Wizards, Dementors, and a highly prejudiced public?

Snape didn’t know whether to be flattered or worried. When Lupin returned, handing Snape a box with half a dozen empty vials inside, Snape purposely stood nearer to Lupin than was absolutely necessary to take the box from him. As their fingers brushed in the exchange, Lupin pulled back as if burned.

Not meeting Snape’s eyes, he once again sat at the table, burying himself in the book he wasn’t really reading. Snape’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He didn’t mind in the least that Lupin wanted to keep his distance. What bothered him was not being sure why.

He rounded the table slowly, setting the box down and leaning back against the kitchen counter. He stared at Lupin, patiently waiting. It only took about three more minutes before Lupin gave up the fight and looked up, meeting Snape’s eyes for the first time all afternoon. “Was there something else?” he asked.

“What’s bothering you, Remus?” He’d purposely used Lupin’s first name, knowing it would throw him off guard.

“Nothing. Why do you think something’s bothering me?”

“Because, were I to shout right now, you’d lose ten years of your life.”

“All in your imagination, my good man.”

Snape believed differently. Lupin quickly looked back down at the page he was worrying with his nervous fingers. Snape swallowed a triumphant smile, but was irritated that he still didn’t know the reason for the sudden nervousness.

* * * *

As Snape’s mind trailed off to places far away, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate slightly. Lupin, alerted to the change, looked up once again. He sighed, seeing that Snape, for the moment, wasn’t aware of his presence. He wondered what Snape was thinking about. He took a moment to study the man, taking in the stern features of his face, and the ever-present black clothing. As Snape was still off somewhere, he stole the opportunity to look his fill.

He’d always been drawn, somehow, toward Snape. Even as students, there had been a pull there. He’d been sure Snape had never known. Lupin had known he was gay since early adolescence, but it would have been unthinkable for him to approach any of his friends. Still, it would have been easier to do that than approach the one he’d actually wanted. But what did he know of Snape, really?

Snape had attended all those Dark Revels, where it was rumored that anything and everything went on. He knew Snape partook of those rituals; they must have involved at least some of the debauchery Lupin imagined in his lonely hours.

He became aware that his eyes were resting on Snape’s crotch, and ashamed, he raised his eyes. His heart stilled as he saw Snape’s eyes on his own. He quickly lowered them, concentrating on the book before him. He felt Snape’s silent presence right next to him, and refused to move, to look at him. But, oh gods, all he had to do was turn in his chair and he could bury his face in Snape’s...

He felt himself begin to harden. He scooted his chair further under the table, hoping Snape hadn’t noticed the bulge in his trousers. He felt the flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Snape was relentless, silently standing there. What was he expecting Lupin to do?

Or was he not as opposed to it as Lupin thought he might be?

He couldn’t help it; he looked up into Snape’s glare. When he saw the black eyes narrow dangerously, he knew he was in for the worst moment of his life.

* * * *

Snape felt many things. He smugly reveled in the fact that it had been so easy to track down the source of Lupin’s uneasiness. But to have this man ogle him so openly? It was an outrage! But the worst thing, the one thing that caused Snape to go beyond rage, was that he’d felt the first stirrings of physical response to Lupin’s stare. Had he been so long without a woman’s attentions that _anyone’s_ attention would cause such a reaction?

He was not a gay-basher. He couldn’t care less that there were men in this world that preferred other men. He was not one of them. But if he were, he thought, it damn well wouldn’t be this rag of a bum that would entice him!

He was gratified to see the exposed neck redden. But he needed to drive the point home; it would not do to leave anything to question.

“I trust you realize that the feeling is most assuredly _not_ mutual?”

* * * *

Lupin struggled to regain at least some of his lost pride. “Don’t lose a moment’s sleep over this little incident,” he said, forcing some cheer into his voice. “This is merely a testament as to how lonely it’s been around here without Sirius. And now you can have a good laugh at my expense. That should allow you to sleep tonight.”

He stood, putting his chair between them, but forcing himself to meet Snape’s eyes. “You don’t really think it’s _you,_ do you?” Lupin added. “It could have been anyone standing there.”

Snape held his stare for another moment, then turned abruptly to leave. Lupin stood still, waiting to hear the door close behind the man in black, and knowing his sleep would be a troubled one. Nothing new there.

He noticed the box on the counter; Snape had been too preoccupied to remember to take it with him. He sighed, and picking up the box, began to pack it for owl delivery. He didn’t want to give Snape any reason for a return trip.


	2. A Different Sort of Line

Chapter Two  
A Different Sort of Line

Snape swore silently as he walked down the Muggle road. He could have Apparated back to Hogwarts as soon as he’d left the house, but he needed to walk off his anger. He didn’t want to return to Hogwarts yet, anyway. It bothered him that his slight arousal at that werewolf’s ogling hadn’t left him. As a matter of fact, things had become even more pressing. Perhaps it was his own reminder of how long it had been since he’d sought out any of the witches in Knockturn Alley.

Making up his mind, he entered the empty field at the corner. Looking around briefly to make sure no Muggles were about, noticing things they weren’t supposed to notice, he Disapparated with a small pop. He soon found himself in the dark corridors of the section of Diagon Alley which were best left to creatures of the night. He felt at home here, despite not having been around for so long.

After letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the poorly lit alley, he searched out the few quiet souls lurking in the shadowed doorways of shops that specialized in the Dark Arts. They were there, but they were keeping their distance. He was known here, and it was customary to gauge his mood before accosting him, offering their wares.

Snape realized his foul mood was apparent, because even the most desperate of the ladies hid themselves from his scrutiny. He really didn’t understand it; he’d never hurt anyone upon hiring them. Well, no long-lasting pain, anyway.

He headed down the road, becoming more and more frustrated when the few ladies who hadn’t had a chance to hide from him refused to make eye contact. He really didn’t want to return to his rooms at Hogwarts unsatisfied. It would make for an eternal night.

Now here was someone coming toward him he didn’t recognize. New blood?

He assessed her features as she neared him. Long, raven black hair that blew freely in the slight breeze; the high cheekbones he could see even at this distance; long neck, unencumbered by jewelry; high pert breasts in a brightly colored blouse; small waistline; long legs hidden by the black skirt she wore. Candy for his eyes.

He approached her, slowing his steps, expecting her to do the same. When she didn’t, he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm as she would have passed him by. She turned to him, startled, and he held tight when she would have broken free.

With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and drew out a handful of galleons. “What’s your hurry?” he asked, putting as much silk into his voice as possible.

She glanced at the gold, and up into his eyes. He could see confusion there, but it quickly cleared. Now she was amused. “Oh! I’m not one of them,” she said, motioning with her head at the two women who were crossing the road away from them.

He followed her look, not fully understanding. “Of course you’re not. That’s why I’m talking to you and not them.”

“I meant, I’m not a pro.”

He still held her prisoner, his mind slowly grasping her meaning. “If you’re not a working girl, then what are you doing here in Knockturn Alley? At this time of the evening?”

“Trying to find my way back home,” she said, as if it should have been clear.

“You can get yourself into a lot of trouble, getting lost here.”

“I haven’t had any problems yet.”

She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but now that he had her attention, he was loath to give it up. He smiled to himself at the apprehension suddenly showing in her eyes now, and tightened his grip on her wrist even more. He smiled sadistically when he felt the small bones grind against each other. It had to have hurt, but except for the briefest flicker that flashed in her eyes, she stood silently.

She was good, he had to admit. She was very good.

The next thing he knew, he was kissing the bricks of the building that had been behind them, his arm wrenched painfully behind his back. He felt the heat of her body against his back; felt the harsh whisper of her voice in his ear.

“As I said,” she told him, her breath moving his hair, “I haven’t had any problems yet.”

It was his wand hand she held twisted behind his back. He tried to twist around so he could use his weight against her, switching their positions. But with the least little movement he tried to make, she simply tightened her grip until he became worried his arm would separate from his shoulder, his wrist wrench itself from his hand. Where had this little slip of a girl found such strength?

He felt a lessening of the pressure on his arm. Before he could react to it, she turned him around, slamming him once again into the wall, this time facing her. Shock kept him still. She stood looking at him, her dark eyes intense. Then she looked down at his still-clenched fist. She gently soothed his hand open, looking at the coins there. She looked up into his eyes again, smiling widely.

“You were going to spend this much for me?” she asked. “I’m flattered.”

She took the coins in her hand and he felt her reaching down into his trouser pocket. As she pushed deeper into the pocket, letting the coins fall to its depths, he willed his body not to respond to the movement of her hand, which was getting dangerously close to his erection. He couldn’t tell if she’d noticed. She slowly withdrew her hand, her eyes never leaving his. Suddenly she backed away from him, turning to run off, down the road and around the corner.

He stood, leaning against the wall, watching her disappear. His erection was throbbing, and the cause of it just ran out of his life. He didn’t know her name or where she lived. She hadn’t reached for a wand during their scuffle, so he rather doubted she was in the habit of using one. She couldn’t be a Muggle; what then would she be doing anywhere near Diagon Alley, and the darkest part of it to boot?

He finally pushed himself away from the wall, reaching for his wand. Not having found any satisfaction, he was nevertheless ready to return to Hogwarts. It had been a busy night.


	3. Searching

Chapter Three  
Searching

Snape took one last look over his shoulder at the crowds shopping in Diagon Alley. Turning back to the shop into whose window he had been pretending to peer, he saw his reflection. Pathetic. He’d been coming here every weekend for the last two months, searching every inch of Knockturn Alley, seeking her out. He hadn’t seen her once.

Clearly, she had found her way home after all.

Feeling ridiculously like a schoolboy with a crush, he forced himself to walk back to the Leaky Cauldron, where he would Floo back to Grimmauld Place for the Order meeting. It wasn’t a meeting he had been looking forward to. It would be the first time he would encounter Lupin since that revealing evening two months ago. He’d felt minor relief when Lupin hadn’t attended the last two meetings, due to Order business, but Snape knew he’d be there tonight. He would have to report to the rest what he had learned during his latest assignment.

So, his footsteps heavy, he entered the dark pub and headed straight for the fireplace. As he dropped in the Floo powder and entered the large fireplace, he caught sight of long black hair on a slim figure at the bar. He caught the quickest glance at her face before the Floo network carried him away, his sudden shout of protest lost in the pull of travel.

He gained his footing in the fireplace of the Three Broomsticks at Hogsmeade. Knowing the face he’d briefly glimpsed as he was leaving could very well have been her, he immediately Disapparated back to Diagon Alley, right in front of the pub. Entering quickly, he looked to the bar, searching for the vision he’d been seeking for two months.

She was not at the bar. Taking the time to search every face at every table and coming up empty, he wondered if he dared ask Tom, the proprietor, if she’d taken a room upstairs. He gave up that idea quickly, as he didn’t know anything about her except what she looked like. He wasn’t so far gone that he wished to make a fool of himself in front of Tom, or anyone else. But he’d been gone less than a minute. Where could she have gone in that time? Had it only been his imagination?

Frustrated, angry, and wishing the meeting wasn’t set for tonight, he once again left Diagon Alley to return to Hogsmeade. From there, he went to a garden in Surrey, then to an abandoned railway station in Biggleswade. After all these stops, he felt it was okay to continue on to Grimmauld Place, landing in the field just down the street.

As he walked to number 12, his stride quick and determined, he knew he’d have to force himself to concentrate on the reports made tonight. He couldn’t miss out on important occurrences in their fight just because he’d become besotted with an unknown, and therefore mysterious, stranger.

* * * *

Lupin nodded curtly to Snape, quickly glancing at the black eyes before lowering his own. Apparently, he was still in disfavor with Snape, and he retreated down to the kitchen, leaving Snape to follow him. He kept a low profile as Dumbledore started the meeting, and listened to what had happened in his two-months’ absence.

Snape sat at the table, his head slightly bowed. Lupin could swear he wasn’t really listening, but with Snape, one never knew. Not much ever got past that man. Still, when Potter gave his report about the three Death Eaters his group of Aurors had captured, Snape offered no cruel or sarcastic comments. When Hagrid mentioned the interest of some of the giants in their fight, Snape didn’t roll his eyes even once.

Lupin addressed the group at Dumbledore’s nod. In the last two months, he and a few more members of the Order managed to find and secure the location of two Death Eaters who had been personally responsible for the deaths of the Muggle families of three of the students at Hogwarts. It was a major coup d’état, and he awkwardly accepted congratulations from the others gathered round the table.

Snape appeared not to have heard. Lupin swallowed his brief flash of disappointment, knowing he’d have welcomed even a snide remark from Snape. He began to answer questions.

Dumbledore cut right in with the embarrassing question Lupin had been fearing. “Did you have any problems with the full moon?”

At last, Snape looked up, awaiting Lupin’s answer.

“No, Professor,” Lupin said. “The potion works. I take it regularly when I must. Precautions were taken, of course.” It would always be a source of shame and humiliation to him, that he had such limitations.

“Of course.”

He met Snape’s eyes, but couldn’t tell what the dark-haired man was thinking. “And Severus,” he said directly to him, “again, thank you for your trouble. None of that would have been possible without you.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, brushing away the thanks. “We all have our own strengths,” he said. It was probably the nicest thing he’d ever said to Lupin.

Lupin sat back down, wondering why he hadn’t been the recipient of any Snape barbs. He glanced at Dumbledore, noticing that even the old man was watching Snape. Since the Potions Master didn’t have anything to report this month, the meeting was concluded and food was passed around; quieter conversations began overlapping each other. It was during this minor social period when Snape usually made his escape. Tonight was no exception.

Lupin was disappointed; he had almost been looking forward to Snape’s animosity. At least it would have been _something._ After dreading this meeting for the three days since his return, it seemed almost anticlimactic to be ignored by Snape.

Dumbledore seated himself across the table from Lupin, smiling and flashing his twinkling blue eyes at him. “Do I detect some trouble brewing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Lupin was honestly confused. The headmaster couldn’t possibly know what had transpired between Snape and Lupin at their last meeting, could he?

“Our friend, Severus, seems to have been unnaturally preoccupied tonight. With the nervous looks you kept throwing his way, I just more or less assumed you’d know what was troubling him. Do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. But I agree that his mind wasn’t entirely on Order news.” He no longer flattered himself to believe he was the cause of it. Snape wouldn’t have taken Lupin seriously enough to let him interfere with whatever he was doing at the time. It must be something else.

“Well, we’ll just let him work it out for himself, I guess. He doesn’t really confide in me.”

Lupin was surprised. “I always thought he did,” he said to Dumbledore. “You always seem to know where he is, what he’s doing, all the time.”

“You flatter me with your presumption of my omniscience. I only know what he chooses to tell me. And he hasn’t chosen to tell me anything lately. He does spend a lot of his free time away from school, though. This is something new. As he never mentioned it to me, I know it isn’t Order business. He must have a new acquaintance he’s pursuing.

“Although,” he added, half-smiling, “I don’t believe it’s going too well, judging by his temper lately.” He stood up, blue eyes twinkling merrily at the thought of anyone getting under Snape’s skin that way. “It should be interesting to see how it works out.”

Lupin wondered how close to the mark Dumbledore’s words might be. Was there someone in Snape’s life now?


	4. Look Off to the Side

Chapter Four  
Look Off to the Side

Forcing himself to walk away from the shops in Diagon Alley, Severus headed out of the town center toward the darker pub on the outskirts. He was in no mood to collide with any of the aggravating salespeople and busy shoppers who crowded the road. No more would he torture himself by searching for her in the Alley. No more would he crane his neck looking for the owner of the long black tresses, or to get a closer look at any woman who wore a dress similar to the one he’d seen her in, that evening so long ago.

He had admitted to himself that he was obsessed with her. But he was not so far gone that he would allow this obsession to rule his life any longer. He was tired of seeing the dark circles under his eyes; a testimony to his lack of sleep. He was tired of the worried looks he’d been getting from his colleagues at mealtime, when he simply picked at his food.

Never a sparkling conversationalist, people seemed to be concerned now that he said even less than usual. For three months now, he’d been turning into a shell of a man. All because of such a brief encounter, which left him nothing but restless daydreams and sleepless nights.

He entered the dimly lit pub, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness within. He headed toward the back of the room, as was his custom, and found a small table hidden in the shadows. Seating himself, he automatically scanned the room, always wanting to know who was sharing his space. In this pub, too near Knockturn Alley, it had paid off more than once.

Oh, no. No way. What was that cursed man doing here? It was too late for him pretend he hadn’t seen him; Lupin was already making his way over to the table.

Snape noticed that Lupin signaled the barkeep for two of whatever. He supposed he should at least acknowledge his existence, then. He watched quietly as Lupin sat down at his table. He looked up then, meeting Snape’s eyes boldly. No more discomfort there, Snape noted. He took that to mean he wouldn’t have to worry about the man propositioning him.

“Relax, Severus,” Lupin said, obviously feeling of good cheer. “I realize you’d rather shag Madam Umbridge than spend any more time in my presence than absolutely necessary. I’ll just put my two Knuts in about the deteriorating state of your good health, which everyone is talking about anyway, and then I’ll leave you in peace.”

“If everyone is talking about me, it’s merely proof that they have nothing to do with their time.”

“We do worry about you, you know. You have friends, even if you don’t believe that.”

Snape took a sip from the whiskey the barkeep set in front of him. It saved him having to answer. He’d always been uncomfortable on those rare occasions in which he was told someone cared.

“So, what gives?”

At Snape’s continued silence, Lupin pressed on. “Think of me as a stranger you’ll never see again,” he said. “That would give you the opportunity to spill your secrets without worrying about them coming back to haunt you in the future. Whatever you say to me, Severus, be assured it will not leave this pub.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at the man. “You and your friends have been haunting me ever since our school days,” he said. “Why should I think anything would be different now?”

“Age. Maturity. Humility. Also, I like to think that after our disastrous meeting a few months back, we managed to clear the air. Like it or not, it created a bond of sorts between us. I think neither of us would want to have that day brought up to us by anyone, would we?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not,” Lupin said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not in my nature to threaten _anyone._ I thought you knew at least that about me.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I do care.” At Snape’s grimace, he hastened to qualify his statement. “It has nothing to do with that,” he said, the sincerity clear in his voice. “If I were completely hetero...if I had never even noticed you, I would still feel the same way. I genuinely care about the people I call friends. That includes you. A difficult friendship, granted, but friendship nonetheless.” He held Snape’s gaze steadily, and the dark man was forced to believe he’d meant every word of it.

Snape downed the last of the whiskey, signaling for one more, for Lupin. As the barkeep brought it, Snape stood. He dropped a few coins onto the table. “Thank you for those words, Remus,” he said, in an almost warm tone. “If ever there comes a day when I need to ‘spill my secrets’, as you say, I’ll keep you in mind.”

* * * *

As he left the pub, Lupin stared after him. Had there been a hint of kindness there? He’d called him by his first name; unusual enough to qualify as an event. He smiled to himself as he sipped his whiskey.

* * * *

Severus turned south, heading farther down the road. He wasn’t ready to return to the bustle of Diagon Alley yet, and he felt the need to clear his head. He could admit, if only to himself, that Lupin’s words had warmed him somewhat. But along with that newfound warmth came conflicting emotions which confused him. The confusion aggravated him; he would much rather be in control of his emotions than let his life be ruled by his heart. Friendships could be costly.

He wandered down the long road before him, kicking aside the odd branch or two. His head wasn’t on his destination; he actually had no destination. The mindless walking was clearing his mind, and he began to calm down somewhat. He didn’t know what was down the road, and he didn’t care. He could always Disapparate when he tired of this exercise.

The sound of a door closing off to his left alerted him again to his surroundings. Instinctively casting a spell to camouflage himself, he looked more closely. The sun had already set, and the shadows of evening were beginning to descend on the planet. He moved closer in order to see better.

His heart stopped, just for a moment, as he took in the sight before him. Rubbing his eyes, willing it not to be an illusion, he stared. It couldn’t be her. Not after all this time, all the effort he’d put into his clueless searching.

She was standing in the garden of a small cottage, barefoot, dress swaying in the slight evening breeze. Her black hair was tied back; he could see her face clearly. His lady-who-was-not-a-lady-of-the-evening of Knockturn Alley.

She looked up, alert. He’d not made a sound, so what alerted her to his presence? He looked around. Perhaps it was something else that caught her attention.

But there was no one around. He turned back to her. She’d come closer to the fence that encircled the cottage, looking up and down the road. Severus held his breath, worried that her apparently strong instincts for survival would allow her to hear his breathing, his very heartbeat. She seemed to look right through him as her glance passed him by, focusing at the town he’d just come from.

She turned her gaze inward, and then, as Snape tried to swallow his heart, she looked right up at him. He quickly checked himself. He was still mostly invisible. He forced himself to take a calming breath. Removing the spell that hid himself from most eyes, he allowed her to take in the sight of him. She narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. He did notice, however, that she seemed to channel her energies for quick flight.

“Do you remember me?” he asked her.

“Yes. What are you doing here?” She sounded neither afraid nor angry. It allowed him to go on.

“I was just passing by...” He laughed suddenly, hearing the cliché in his words.

She joined in his laughter. He was emboldened enough to come closer, resting his hands on the fence near hers. She didn’t move away.

“Really, I had no idea you lived here. I wouldn’t have known how to find you anyway.” He decided to go for broke. “I did try, you know. I’ve been trying for the last three months to find out something about you, if only your name.”

She held his gaze silently for what seemed the longest minute he’d ever known. Then, the slightest smile as she answered. “My name is Dariah.” He smiled. Dariah. Lovely. How appropriate.

“Why were you searching for me?”

“You intrigue me. It was a disastrous first meeting between us, and I’ve been feeling bad about it ever since. It felt like something unfinished.”

“Because I wouldn’t take your money?” She smiled cheekily.

“I sincerely apologize for that unfortunate misunderstanding.”

She looked thoughtfully at him, then moved to the gate and opened it, beckoning him inside. He didn’t hesitate. They moved up the path to her porch, sitting on the swing. She sat almost sideways; the better to see him as they spoke. He didn’t mind her scrutiny. He was still wondering why the Fates were looking upon him so kindly for a change.

“You look as though you have some specific question or something.” She had one leg curled under her; the other was pushing against the floor, causing them to swing slightly.

“Why were you lost in Knockturn Alley?”

“I was looking for someone. I took a wrong turn. You know, that entire area is a maze. I couldn’t find the way back out.”

“Who were you looking for?”

She was silent, and he worried that he’d gone too far. It was none of his business, he realized, but he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to get her talking.

But his fears were for naught; she finally answered. “I was looking for Marcus Tachonas. Do you know him? He was to introduce me to someone who would help me in my work.”

“I don’t know him. He’s a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“I help people deal with life’s little problems. Namely, I empty their pockets so they have new problems to deal with, which makes them forget about the problems they bring to me.”

“Do you really?”

She laughed. “I have certain skills, but these unfortunate souls always think those skills are more than they really are. I play them along a little. But I can help, in most cases.”

“How?”

“Usually I help people find lost things. I tell them secrets about themselves to convince them I have the sight, then they’re willing to listen to other things I can tell them.”

“You read their fortunes?”

“Not really. I can’t predict the future, any more than they can. But I know things about them they’ve forgotten, or just don’t know how to put together. It’s not much more than logic, after that.”

“You’re a seer?”

“Some people seem to think so. I’m clairvoyant. Some of them think it’s the same thing.”

Predictors of the future he did not believe; but he’d seen enough evidence of clairvoyance to believe in that. And didn’t his Legilimency skills allow him just a touch of clairvoyance as well? “So, where did you learn to defend yourself such as you did against me that night?”

“You don’t think you’re the first man who’s tried to force himself on me, do you?”

“It wouldn’t have come to that in the end, I assure you.”

“I believe you,” she said, not hesitating. “Why do you think I let you in?”

He felt a warm glow within himself at her words. Not many would have gotten that impression from him. Was this clairvoyance at work? “My name is Severus, by the way.”

“I know.”

He was momentarily disconcerted. Then something dawned on him, as he recalled their first meeting. “Do you need physical contact to take a ‘reading’ from someone?”

“Yes, usually. That’s how I knew your name.”

He decided there was nothing to worry about, after all. She’d taken his measure as he’d held her arm. Or as she’d pushed her body against his when she’d had him against the wall. There had been a lot of physical contact there. He remembered the heat of her contrasting with the cold brick at his front...her warm breath in his ear...

Forcing his errant thoughts back to the present, he remembered all the things about himself he’d rather she not know. But how to broach the subject without giving anything away? “Dariah,” he said, pausing, not sure how to continue. She was all attention. “What else did you get from me that night? Other than my name, I mean?”

“A brief flash of the angst in your life. Quick glimpses of dark things. It didn’t surprise me, though. I mean, you seemed to be comfortable enough there in Knockturn Alley.”

“It didn’t bother you, what you saw? I know it didn’t keep you from letting me sit here and talk to you.”

“It didn’t bother me.”

“Why not?”

“Because that isn’t all I saw. It isn’t like watching a film, you know. It’s just suddenly _knowing._ Only a part of you was there in the dark. The rest of you was reaching for the light.”

He didn’t know what she meant by that, but it compelled him to reach out a finger and trace it over her forehead, moving her hair away from her eyes. She didn’t stop him, so he continued his path down her cheek, and then traced her lips. They parted slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his leg. He felt her heat, and his body reacted. He welcomed the touch of her sweet lips on his, barely registering the sudden hardness in his trousers, so wrapped up in their kiss that nothing else existed. As their kiss ended, and she leaned back once more, he looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. When was the last time anyone made him feel this way? Had he _ever_ felt this way, other than in his dreams?

He suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. There were feelings in him now that he had no idea how to handle. He knew he felt toward Dariah the way he never did and never would feel about anyone else. His heart was already breaking, knowing this too, like everything else in his life that was good, would end. And it would happen long, long before he was ready for it.

He stood up, feeling a rushing need to return to the safe familiarity of Hogwarts and his dungeon rooms. She stood with him, escorting him to the gate. She leaned against it as he turned, bowing slightly and thanking her for her time. Formality was the only defense he had in this situation. He didn’t know what words to use.

“I’m glad you came by, Severus,” she said seriously. “Come back again soon. You’ll break my heart if you don’t.”

His heart lifted again. How could he be the cause of heartbreak in such a woman? He smiled, knowing he’d be back. There was never any doubt about that.


	5. The Sweet Torture of Beginnings

Chapter Five  
The Sweet Torture of Beginnings

And he did return. Again and again. He began to feel he spent more time at her cheerful cottage than he spent teaching Potions at Hogwarts.

He forced himself to ignore the speculations of the staff. He knew that when he entered the Great Hall for the meals he once again enjoyed, the twittering conversations between McGonagall and Sprout were about him. He was aware that the extra sparkle in the Headmaster’s eyes was because of him. And he also was sure that no one would dare to ask him a personal question. And so, he blissfully went about his days, looking forward to the several evenings each week he’d pop over to the cottage outside the Alley.

He began to feel more and more at home in her cheerful kitchen, sharing either wine or iced tea with her. He became familiar with her library, and learned to appreciate her taste in music, which always seemed to be playing softly in the background.

He enjoyed lying in the grass of her backyard with her, watching the stars and loving the easy way she relaxed in his company. He no longer hesitated to touch her; to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear; to lay his hand on hers when making a point during their conversations. She never made a big deal of it, and she responded in kind. He was surprised at how quickly he’d gotten used to the physical contact he’d been denied for so long.

He learned of her background; she was fully a Muggle, but had become involved with Marcus Tachonas in the course of her work. He was to have introduced her to Sybill Trelawney, whom Dariah hoped could teach her about astrology.

“Although, if it’s astrology you wish to learn, it would be better to meet Professor Sinistra. Sybill’s specialty is Divination.”

“It doesn’t really matter; I just want to learn the theatrics she uses. Muggles are such suckers for it.”

He found himself promising to introduce her to Sybill. Such was an example of the changes this woman was bringing out in him. He wasn’t sure he minded, although there was still reluctance in him to bring their idyllic world into the world of Hogwarts.

She, in turn, was learning about his earlier life; the bits he was almost comfortable telling her about. She was interested in Potions, as well as every other branch of magic he was willing to tell her about. She’d picked quite a bit up from Marcus, but was eager to learn more. His ego almost always rose to the occasion.

And then there were the times he’d lean over spontaneously to kiss her; to touch her, run his fingers through her hair, throwing aside the ribbons that held it away from her face. His body unfailingly hardened upon feeling her immediate response, but he’d always backed down quickly. Sure, it had been forever since he’d bedded a woman, but the timing just didn’t feel right. Each time, he’d return to Hogwarts with blue balls, but happy even so.

It wasn’t Dariah who stopped him. She was wondering why he’d always stopped, he knew. But something caused him pause. Perhaps it was the belief that it would be the beginning of the end, once they made love. Perhaps he was just trying to prolong their time together.

Made love? Where had that come from? He’d had sex with women; he’d never _made love._ For the first time in his life, he realized he wanted the candlelight and roses, the soft music and lingerie. The bud of romance had been planted in the dour Severus Snape.

* * * *

Lupin suppressed a grin as Snape entered the kitchen for the Order meeting. There was almost a bounce in the man’s step, and his eyes didn’t have that empty look which had become the norm for him. Apparently, whatever he had going for him outside of Hogwarts was agreeing with him.

He was just about to duck his head to avoid Snape’s glance when he was caught by the look Snape threw him just then. There was almost a smile there, and he nodded to Lupin before taking a seat. This, too, was new. He felt warmth spread through him. Had a friendship with Snape really meant that much to him?

And he knew it would never be more than that. He knew well enough how to read people to know his lust would be unrequited. It didn’t bother him, surprisingly enough. But it did do his heart good to know Snape was beginning to regard him as a friend.

With the new optimism just about radiating from Snape this evening, Lupin was surprised when Snape left the house immediately afterward. He’d almost expected him to socialize with the rest. Why not? Everything else was out-of-character for him.

Clearly he’d made plans with his new interest for tonight.

* * * *

Snape was almost impatient enough to Apparate directly to Dariah’s house, instead of the circuitous route he normally took. But there was still the danger of being followed, so he forced himself to hit four Apparition sites before heading out to Diagon Alley.

He went to the Alley first; then walked over to her house, always making sure he wasn’t being followed. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted by annoying Dark Wizards taking his attention away from where he wanted it to be.

As he walked up to her door, she opened it, having been watching for him. It did his heart wonders to know she wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. It was such a beautiful night that he pulled her out onto the porch, leading her around to the backyard, settling down into the grass in their favorite spot for stargazing.

She kicked off her shoes, and he did the same. He no longer felt as though he were naked if he went barefoot or if he loosened a button or two. There were nights, quite often lately, when he’d been so tempted to rip her clothes off and lose his mind over her. He’d forced himself to keep his head; if he frightened her away, he might just as well throw himself into the ocean and take a few deep breaths. It was better to go back to his rooms throbbing, unsatisfied, than to rush anything.

He leaned back on his hands, looking up to the sky. One leg he stretched out before him; the other was bent at the knee, balanced. She sat cross-legged next to him, watching him instead of the night sky.

“Is there something on your mind?” he asked.

“I’m insulted,” she answered. “You should know by now that there is always _something_ on my mind. I’m incapable of blanking out.”

He smiled at her. “You know what I mean,” he said. “You look as though you’ve been meaning to say something to me. Go ahead, I can take it.” Sure, he could take it as long as it was humor lighting her eyes.

“No, not really. Just that I wanted to thank you for introducing me to Sybill. But I wasn’t sure I should. Thank you, I mean. She’s kind of...different, isn’t she?”

He laughed out loud, putting her at ease. “Don’t worry, she’s not a close friend of mine. You won’t offend me by saying something derogatory about her. I’ve always had kind of a low opinion of her, actually.”

She smiled. Leaning more closely toward him, she rested her arm on his knee. That unbalanced it, but her position kept his leg there while she spoke, quietly, as if imparting secrets.

“She will never admit she can’t see a thing, will she? Do you think she believes it? Do you think she’s managed to convince herself that she does see?”

He looked deeply into her expressive brown eyes. Six months ago, would he ever have believed he could have fallen so hard for a Muggle? Still, she was no ordinary Muggle. She knew more about magic than any other Muggle he’d known.

Oh, he knew other Muggles. In his line of work, with the world’s insistence that all sciences be shared, he had developed quite a few contacts in both the Magical and Muggle worlds. But most Muggles had a deliberate blindside when it came to magic, and would live in denial before acknowledging the existence of it.

Dariah was different. She not only acknowledged the existence of a Magical world, she embraced it. He knew she often wished she were Magic, and could be a bigger part of this world. This is why she chose to live outside of Diagon Alley, as opposed to London. She kept an office in London proper, but preferred to keep her private life separate from her work. And she’d made enough acquaintances among the wizards and witches that her non-magical residence among them was tacitly tolerated.

Her arm slipped, and he felt her hand bracing on his thigh. His response was immediate as his knee fell, giving her free access to his person. She met his eyes as she slowly moved her hand upward, and he knew she saw the passion that her touch incited in him.

He felt his cock harden, and realized he wanted her to know it. He allowed her to continue her exploration of his body, her warm hand sliding over the wool of his trousers in search of the source of heat she must have felt.

He drew in a deep breath as he felt her feather-light touch teasing at the bulge that threatened to rip his fly open. He leaned forward, catching her lips with his, murmuring softly against them. She increased the pressure of her touch, and rubbed against him. At his answering moan, she pulled away to bring both her hands to his head, tangling her fingers in his hair to pull him closer to her.

He felt the loss of her intimate touch, and leaned into the kiss to push her down to the soft grass beneath them. Trying to find relief for the tightness in his groin, he covered her body with his, pushing his erection into her hip. She moved against him, and he gasped his excitement against her lips.

He thrust his tongue into her receptive mouth, tasting her, loving the feel of her mouth working against his. Her breathing was just as labored as his, so he pulled back and began to nibble at her lower lip.

His hands sought the flesh under her blouse, impatiently opening the buttons, pushing her blouse aside. He nuzzled the lace at the edge of her bra, moving slowly, tortuously to the hardened nipple, lapping through the silky material to tease it. He felt her hands in his hair, pulling him closer before she began moving them down his neck, to his back, pulling him as close as she could.

He reached to open the clasp between her heaving breasts, and she sighed as the evening air touched her exposed flesh. He licked at her nipples, one at a time, loving the way she wriggled under him, wanting more.

As she opened her legs, trapping one of his between, he pressed more purposefully against her, rubbing against her heat, groaning at the way her hips rose to grind into him. Oh, gods, he wanted her so much. He positioned his other leg between hers, mindless now as she squeezed her legs around his hips.

He gasped as his rock-hard cock fought to escape his trousers. Reaching down, he ran his hand over her smooth leg, moving under her skirt, searching. As he found her lacy panties, he pulled down, and her hips instantly lifted to help in removing them. He felt her hand reaching between them, fighting to open his fly, and it was difficult; he’d couldn’t remember ever being so hard as he was now.

Lifting her skirt to her waist, he raised himself on his knees only far enough to help her undo his fly.

“Dariah,” he groaned, feeling the sweet rush of freedom as she pulled his trousers down past his hips. Her hands on his hot shaft felt so good, as she stroked him. He squeezed his eyes shut with his pleasure, and his hips began moving, matching the rhythm of her touch.

He touched her where she was so hot, even further excited to feel the wetness dripping from her. She had waited as long as he to feel this. He felt her touching the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the moisture there down his shaft.

“Oh...oh, yes...oh, god, Dariah...” He concentrated on control, but didn’t try to slow her down. He was well beyond that. He rubbed her with his thumb, pushing two fingers into her, swallowing her passionate gasp with his lips.

She guided him to her; he positioned himself over her, his weight on his arms, watching her eyes intently. With her hand pulling him in, he entered her, struggling to keep his eyes open, wanting to see the want, the need, in hers.

As he pushed into her, she moaned, her hands coming up his back to his shoulders, pulling him down to her. He gasped out, then nuzzled her neck. It was almost too much to bear. Pulling out, he felt her clinging to him inside, her muscles fighting against his withdrawal.

“Oh, Severus, yes, Severus...” Oh, to hear his name uttered with such passion. It did things to him he could never have imagined in all his fantasies of her. He thrust deeply into her, setting a pace, a hot rhythm to fight the non-rhythm of his ragged breathing. She rocked her hips to the same rhythm, the two of them moving together with the timing usually reserved for couples who’d had much more experience with each other.

He felt her hands go under his shirt, smoothing over his chest, his back, and he reached down and ripped the silken nuisance away, wanting her to have unencumbered freedom to touch him all over, oh, god, her touch was so good.

Her legs wrapped more tightly around him, he could feel her tensing up. There was a live volcano inside her, and he felt the heat of her surrounding him. She was milking him, and he could feel his hips begin to buck faster, deeper. He had no control over himself now. He followed blindly, powerless to do otherwise.

“Dariah...” Oh, god, was that really his voice? He’d never heard such tones coming from his mouth before. “Oh, Dariah, yes...oh... _oh...”_

He felt her breath hot in his ear, her gasps blew his hair from his face. Her hips rocked violently, suddenly, and he plunged deeply into her, feeling her muscles lock down on him, and he felt his balls pull up tight. He shouted out his passion to the stars as he let go, pouring into her heat, feeling her nails leaving evidence of her passion on his back. He lost his mind as his body continued jerking, bucking into her, his explosion so intense as he lost track of the world around them.

It seemed like an hour before he could move to raise himself up from her, allowing her to breathe again; but he knew it was only a moment. He held himself on shaking arms, looking down into her eyes, loving her utterly.

She was a bit slower in coming around, and she smiled into his eyes, sated. He kissed her swollen lips tenderly, never wanting this moment to end. He reluctantly pulled out of her, moving to her side and bringing her with him to lie on the cool grass. As the night air dried the wetness of their bodies, he again looked up at the stars...he drifted off...his grip on her never relaxing.


	6. The Company We Keep

Chapter Six  
The Company We Keep

“He was seen in Muggle London again,” Dumbledore was saying. “In Soho. If you’re patient, he’ll show up before the weekend’s over, according to our resources.”

Lupin studied the Muggle photo again. The man was swarthy, possibly of Mediterranean heritage, and appeared to be looking almost directly into the camera. “Who took this picture?” he asked.

“Arthur Weasley. He’s always been interested, almost to the point of obsession, with Muggle technology. That’s why Tachonas doesn’t move. It was taken with Arthur’s latest acquisition.”

“So Tachonas knew he was being photographed?”

“No, Arthur doesn’t believe so. The camera was designed to look like a tie pin. He most likely never knew he was being observed. He’s very arrogant, I gather, and it doesn’t seem he’s looking overly paranoid about being followed.”

“So what exactly is this Tachonas doing with the information he’s been gathering?”

“We think he’s selling it to Flint. As you know, we’ve been unable to find Flint since Voldemort’s death. But evidence says he’s still out there, planning to continue the campaign. I think he reports directly to Malfoy now.”

“And this shop that he frequents?”

“It belongs to the Delacrombe Corporation. They own more than a few of the office buildings and warehouses in the Soho district. However, the tenant is a woman named...” Dumbledore pushed around the parchments on his desk, looking for the document that he’d only received that morning. “Here it is. Dariah Moreland is renting it. She runs a shop where people pay her to read their palms, tarot cards, plot their astrological charts, that sort of thing. We think she’s Tachonas’ partner.”

“She has access to the information against the Ministry?”

“Some of her wealthiest clients deal with the Ministry regularly. The wives of the city’s administrators go to her, with all their idle afternoons. There’s no telling what kind of information this Moreland woman could extract, depending on her skill with words.”

“Okay, I’ll grab a couple of men and stake out the place. Do we approach the woman at all?”

“Only if you find out anything proving she’s involved. We can’t afford to alienate the Muggles by making mistakes with their citizens.”

“In that case, do you have a picture of her?”

“Yes; Arthur took it, not knowing who she was.”

Lupin was confused. “Then why did he take it?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Take a look. Arthur may be happily married, but he’s not blind, nor dead.”

Lupin looked at the picture, and smiled his agreement. “Okay, enough said. According to this schedule, she closes up shop at five during the week; noon on Saturdays. We’ll go out there tomorrow, hang around until she closes at noon, then see if we can get inside. Maybe charm a few things inside that will give us the ability to watch her from a distance.”

“Perfect. And remember, the less who know about this, the less chance we have of mucking it up. Don’t even mention it to other Order members unless you have to.”

“Understood.”

“So,” Dumbledore said as he put away the rest of the documents. “How are things going, otherwise? Feeling all right?”

“Sure, I’ve never felt better.”

“And how are things over at Grimmauld Place? You know, you can have rooms here any time you like. It must get lonely at that big house.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “But I don’t mind my own company. Besides, there’s always someone dropping in at one time or another.”

“You do seem in better spirits, lately.”

“Do I?”

“Maybe it’s the work you’ve been doing lately. Everyone must feel useful; must feel they’re contributing. I fear I made a mistake by trying to keep Sirius out of it. Sometimes it’s difficult for me not to be overprotective.”

Lupin felt a pang at the mention of Sirius’ name. It was still hard to realize his best friend was gone forever.

“And,” Dumbledore continued, “I am aware of the hostilities among your group of friends and Severus all these years. I know it’s difficult to accept his help; relying on him to prepare your potion.”

Lupin smiled. “Actually, I think we’ve come to an understanding. He’s not nearly so resentful of me lately. There are times when I feel we’re on friendly terms.”

“Really? How did you manage that?”

Lupin had no intention of discussing the tension between himself and Snape that led ultimately to their new understanding. “Well, I think maybe Severus is too busy with his new interests to bother reminding me of how much he hates me.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, I wonder what that’s all about? He has his students scared to death at the change in him. They’re waiting for him to wake up one day and remember that he hasn’t assigned detentions or taken house points away for so long.”

Lupin laughed, rising to leave. At the door, he turned back. “You don’t suppose he’s in love, do you?”

The blue eyes twinkled merrily. “Well, they always say there’s someone for everyone.”

* * * *

Severus leaned with his back against Dariah’s kitchen counter, arms braced on either side. He appreciatively watched as she went about preparing dinner for the two of them. He liked watching her; her movements were so sure and graceful. It still made his heart skip a beat when she paused in her work and smiled at him. Or winked.

But he tried to keep a stern look on his face today. He’d warned her about some of the people she chose to associate with in Knockturn Alley. She was going to get herself in trouble; more trouble than she could handle if she didn’t watch it.

“He’s seen more time in Azkaban than you’ve seen in life,” he was saying. “All for dabbling in the Dark Arts against the Ministry.”

“Ah, but Severus, I don’t ask him about Dark Arts. I ask him how his family is doing. How his search for employment is going. How his kids are doing in school.”

“But people don’t know that,” he argued. “They’ll assume you’re up to something.”

“Well, I can’t live my life according to what other people think, now can I?”

He was forming words to debate the point, but was momentarily distracted as she leaned into him and touched her lips to the base of his throat. A feather-light touch intended to disorient him. And it did.

He forced his mind back to his lecture. “And what about that Hannah woman? The one that keeps trying to sell me the teeth of toads? She’s trying to recruit you for something.”

He forgot about Hannah when he felt her hand on him, rubbing slowly, deliberately. He groaned, and without conscious thought, he moved his legs a little farther apart, giving her more room to play.

“She’s harmless. Besides, I can’t stop her once she starts gossiping.” Severus forgot who they were talking about as Dariah opened his fly. He looked down at her handiwork; the sight of his hardness in her hands was truly a wonder to behold. As she stroked, he sighed, closing his eyes.

“Oh, god...” As she knelt before him, as he felt her lips on him, he braced his hands more firmly on the counter, knowing his legs would give out on him. Oh sweet heavens, her mouth was so hot. She kissed and licked her way up his shaft, then began to torture the head of his cock with lightning-quick kisses and tiny nips. He gasped, then moaned as she sucked him into her mouth, pulling him in deep.

He felt her hands on his hips, pulling him deeper into her mouth. He tried to concentrate on what he’d been saying. He wasn’t going to fall for this; he knew she was just trying to take his mind away from their discussion. It worked; oh, god, how well it worked, but it was important that she stop taking so many chances.

“Dariah, you don’t...sseeeeem to...realize...how...oh, god, Dariah...how dangerouusss...how dangerrrr...how tricky these people...these...oh...ohhh...yesss...the things they’ll...oohhhhh...Dariah...”

He gave up, conceding her this round. “You turned the...the fiiirrrre...fire down underrr...the soup?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Oh, hell...the vibrations as she answered almost ended it right there. He growled, his hands gripping the counter so hard behind him. He felt her smile around her mouthful.

“Mmmmmmmmmm.”

“Dariah...yes...yes yes yes yes...oh...oh...ooohhhh...OHHH...YES...YES YES...OH OH OH OH OH OH.” He felt his balls tighten; the tension in him coiling from deep within.

She put her hands on his ass and pulled him in close; he felt the back of her throat as he blindly reached for culmination. She swallowed him up and he gripped her shoulder with one hand, his hips bucking helplessly against her. His eyes shut tight, he saw photons of light and stars behind his eyelids as he emptied himself into her mouth, gasping, jerking, finally groaning as she eased up, allowing him to come back into himself.

He stood on shaking legs, most of his weight being held up by the counter, as she gently put him back into his trousers. He was panting, allowing his breath to slow naturally, as she stood and touched her lips softly to the hollow under his ear. He shuddered and felt her smile against his skin.

Leaving him to regain his senses, she turned away to stir the contents of the pot on her stove. He looked after her, wondering again how he came to be here. It wasn’t his karma to have so much. When was it all going to be taken away from him?

Forcing his dark thoughts away from the depressing thought, he sat at the table to allow his legs to regain their normal strength. She ladled up the soup for the two of them, and smiling, brought the bowls to the table. He could only smile back at her.


	7. Through the Eyes of a Werewolf

Chapter Seven  
Through the Eyes of a Werewolf

Lupin watched through his specially charmed Floo-glass as Dariah Moreland talked with the wife of Cornelius Fudge. He strained to hear every word said; Mrs. Fudge would no doubt be privy to many secrets her husband should keep to himself.

As the talk in Miss Moreland’s shop turned to flower gardens and pesky aphids, he felt himself losing interest. But perhaps they were speaking in some sort of code. He really should have Madam Sprout here with him; she would be able to tell right off if there anything was amiss in this conversation.

But, on Dumbledore’s orders, he couldn’t bring Sprout into this.

The two women finally stood up, and with some parting words, Miss Moreland closed the door behind Mrs. Fudge. As Lupin watched, she stretched, reaching toward the ceiling with her arms as she removed the kinks from her body. It wasn’t a bad view, and he kept his eyes on her as she took the money Mrs. Fudge had given her and put it into a box on her countertop. She made a few notations in a book, then turned to peer out the front window at the street out front.

Lupin looked on as she checked her watch, then compared it to the clock on the wall behind the counter. She glanced once more down the street, then turned on her heel and began to blow out the candles. Lupin signaled Anderson, the Auror he’d borrowed from the Order’s resource list, and they hurriedly left Grimmauld Place to Apparate to the street where she kept her shop. They planned to follow Miss Moreland, reasonably sure she’d arranged to meet Tachonas in Diagon Alley today. It was easier than trying to track the man himself.

Anderson and Lupin appeared in the front salon of an empty shop the Ministry had arranged to rent for the occasion, and as they left by the front door, Miss Moreland was just locking the door of her shop. She didn’t even glance around her as they began to follow her. From their position across the busy street from her, and with the crowds pushing from all directions, they had no need to fear arousing her suspicions.

She didn’t seem to be trying to hide as she walked directly to the Leaky Cauldron and disappeared inside. Lupin began to run, not wanting to lose her, causing Anderson to swear and almost jump in front of a Muggle taxi to catch up.

They entered the Leaky Cauldron, trying not to appear out of breath, just as Miss Moreland left through the back door. Peering through the well-placed crack in the door, they waited until she’d touched the pattern of bricks in the wall of the alley, and after she’d walked through the newly created archway into Diagon Alley, they slipped through the door to follow before the archway closed itself.

She never turned around as they entered the Alley; she was walking straight down the road. It would have been difficult if there weren’t so many shoppers running around. The decision to actually tail her on Saturday had been a good one.

She did look behind her just before she turned into the dark lane that led to Knockturn Alley. Lupin forced himself to keep walking, taking in the wares of the shop across the way. From the corner of his eye, he saw her return her eyes to the alley and continue on her way. He was satisfied that she hadn’t been aware of being followed.

As he and his sidekick approached the same lane, he forced himself to wait an extra moment before carefully looking around the corner. There were a few scraggly-looking characters hanging around the lane, but none of them were Miss Moreland. Looking further, he saw that the Alley was abuzz with shoppers, thieves, beggars, and other low-life denizens.

Assured that he could enter without causing undue attention, he and Anderson followed in her path, looking amid the crowd for the bright colors of the clothes she’d been wearing. Surely, among these wretched wizards and witches, she’d stand out clearly.

Anderson punched Lupin’s arm, gesturing to a doorway sharply to the left. Lupin saw a brief flash of color as the door shut behind her. They casually walked over for a closer look, and finding it was a kitchenette of sorts, they entered. Just two ordinary wizards looking for a bite to eat.

She was sitting at the counter, positioned so she could see the door. She gave Lupin and Anderson no more than a cursory glance, then looked down at the counter in front of her.

Lupin motioned Anderson to a table that would allow them to watch both Miss Moreland and the door, and ordered two butterbeers from the wench who handed them each a small, stiff piece of parchment.

Lupin watched the parchment, seeing menu items flashing past. He watched until he was sure everything on the menu had appeared at least once before deciding one simply did not eat in this establishment if one chose to enjoy good health afterward. He glanced at Miss Moreland, not really surprised that she wasn’t eating anything.

So, she didn’t come here for lunch; that was a good sign. It meant she was waiting for someone. Hoping that someone would be Tachonas, he began to discuss with Anderson how they would handle the situation.

“If Tachonas does show up here,” Lupin asked Anderson, “would he recognize you from anywhere?”

“No, we’ve never met,” came his answer. “And he’ll not know me from my work. I haven’t been in the public eye.”

“Excellent. He won’t know me, either, I hope. After Voldemort’s fall, someone put my picture in the papers, but I think I’ve managed to avoid the bulk of publicity. Luckily, the reporters were concentrating on Harry Potter.”

“So, do we take him?”

“Yes, we definitely take him. I’m not too sure about her, though.”

“I think we should. We can always turn her loose after interrogating her.”

“Yes, but she’s a Muggle. Muggles hire lawyers. The Ministry is not going to be happy if they have to Obliviate Muggles in order to keep the peace. We’ll ask her to go with us. If she thinks she’s being arrested along with him, better for us. We’ll let her assume what she wants.”

Anderson sighed, rubbing his face. “Why do they tie our hands like this? They expect us to accomplish miracles, yet they won’t let us work!”

Lupin smiled, silently agreeing.

Anderson continued, having found a sympathetic sounding board in Lupin. “It’s all that damned Fudge’s fault,” he said poisonously. “Why the hell is he still in office?”

“Because he doesn’t have any real opposition. No one else wants his job, except a few assorted Dark Wizards.”

“What about Dumbledore? I always thought he’d go for it.”

“That’s what Fudge is always afraid of,” Lupin replied. “Truth is, Dumbledore would have retired by now if it wasn’t for the school. That’s all he ever wanted, I think. To get the young witches and wizards off to a good start. Politics doesn’t enter into his motives.”

“Damned shame.”

At the sound of the door opening, they left off their conversation to see the wizard for whom they’d been waiting. He glanced around the diner, unconcerned, then made his way over to where Miss Moreland sat at the counter. She greeted him with a warm smile.

“Let’s give him a moment to sit down and relax,” Lupin suggested. “I don’t want him going for his wand if we can avoid it.”

“Let me concentrate on him,” Anderson said. “No offense, but I’ve had more experience than you in dealing with these guys.”

“No problem at all,” Lupin said. “I’ll go for the Muggle woman. I’ve no desire to spend any time in St. Mungo’s.”

After a couple of minutes, they slowly began moving to advance on the couple. Just as they approached the counter, Miss Moreland threw back her head, her laughter filling the diner. As Tachonas lowered his head to laugh to the floor, Anderson seized him from behind, removing Tachonas’ wand as he applied his own, stupefying the wizard.

“Marcus!” The woman stood up, gazing in shock at her friend. Lupin took the opportunity to grab her, forcing her hands behind her back.

“What are you doing?” she yelled. She quickly looked around the diner. The three patrons there seemed little inclined to rush to her defense.

As Anderson performed the charms that would immobilize Tachonas for a trip to the Ministry, Lupin spoke to Miss Moreland.

“You are to come with us to the Ministry for questioning,” he said. “Do you understand this? Do you know the Ministry of which I speak?”

“You’re not talking about the Muggle Ministry, I gather?”

“I’m talking about the Ministry of Magic. You’ve heard of it?”

She looked back at him, frowning. “Of course I have.”

“Just making sure. I do know you’re of Muggle descent.”

“Who _are_ you?”

“It will all be made clear when we get there.”

No fuss, no muss. That’s what he thought until Anderson left the diner and he moved to follow, Miss Moreland in tow. But as soon as the door closed behind Anderson and Tachonas, Lupin found himself face down on the floor, a pain-inducing knee in the small of his back and his arm twisted in a way nature hadn’t intended.

He felt her reach into his pocket, searching, then he heard his wand being tossed somewhere behind them. “Whatever your problem with Marcus,” he heard, close to his ear, “you have no business dragging me along. I’ve done nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“If you’ll simply come along--” His words were cut off against the pain as she tightened her grip on his arm.

“Why should I believe you? You people have way too much power. You abuse it.”

“No, I just need to ask--” Again, she twisted his arm. Clearly, she was not going to listen to reason. He wondered how to extricate himself from her abusive clutch without losing an arm. Why hadn’t anyone warned him about her?

“Please, if I could complete a sentence without any amputations...”

He was relieved to feel the pressure on both his kidney and his arm lessen, if only slightly. “I’m listening.”

“Marcus Tachonas has gotten himself into serious trouble. We only have to find out where he’s getting his information. If it’s not you, then we’ll apologize, escort you to your home if you like, and not trouble you further. That’s if, as you say, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Silence.

He began to worry. She had him pinned so well against the floor that he knew he wouldn’t be able to free himself. He was really beginning to hate dealing with Muggles.

“I will come to your Ministry,” she said, finally. “But I will not promise to answer any questions. Not unless you answer mine. Understood?”

It was as good as he was going to get. Once they were at the Ministry, Lupin thought, he’d let someone else deal with her. It was more than his job was worth.

* * * *

Severus was disconcerted to find her house empty. He searched his memory, trying to remember if she’d said she wouldn’t be home this afternoon. He didn’t feel he was taking her for granted, not by a long shot, but wouldn’t she have mentioned it?

He headed back to Diagon Alley, knowing she’d owl him if she wanted his company.


	8. Lupin Meets the Muggle

Chapter Eight  
Lupin Meets the Muggle

Lupin was wearing out the tiles in front of the Ministry’s dark corridor. Tachonas was on his way to the lower levels of the building, with the Wizengamot Panel already beginning to assemble. He’d no doubt be on his way to Azkaban within the hour. Veritaserum was such a wonderful thing. Would he accuse Miss Moreland during his interrogation?

Miss Moreland, true to her word, had not offered anything in the way of information. It was against policy for any information to be given to her, and so she refused to cooperate with them. It could only mean she was in as deeply as her partner-in-crime, Lupin thought. He was agitated beyond what this arrest warranted. She’d offended him, both in his inability to physically bring her in, and because she knew so much more than she was admitting. He wasn’t a high-profile wizard; how could this Muggle have known he was a werewolf?

His face burned in shame once again as he remembered how she’d looked up at the sky before turning to him, saying, “No full moon coming tonight. Lucky you.”

Bloody cheek! He’d almost wished it _were_ a full moon coming. Then they’d see who had the last laugh. He’d Accio’d his wand as they stood, and as she’d made her smart-arsed remark, he wanted nothing more than to use that wand against her. It had frightened him, this feeling. He was not by nature a violent man.

He looked through the small window set high up into the door. She was sitting quietly, calmly, at a table in the middle of the room. She looked up at him, arching an eyebrow.

He looked behind him; no one there. He probably shouldn’t expect anyone to show up for a while yet. He’d sent word to Dumbledore of this development, and was now waiting for the wise man to show up and advise him. It had either been that or summon Fudge. For Lupin, the choice was simple. He wouldn’t trust Fudge to handle a hot kettle of tea, let alone any sort of interrogation.

He entered the room, warding the door behind him. He sat down opposite her at the table and checked her cup. He’d given her coffee earlier, but it didn’t look like she’d touched it. “You don’t think we’re about to poison you, do you?”

“I’m not all that much of a coffee drinker.”

“Would you rather have tea? It wouldn’t take but a second.”

“No. But thank you.” He wasn’t sure, but he might have detected some softening in her eyes. “I hope I didn’t hurt your arm,” she was saying.

In spite of himself, Lupin smiled. “Nothing a warm compress couldn’t handle,” he admitted. “Apparently, you’ve been forced to defend yourself before.”

She said nothing to that, but continued to look at him, smiling slightly.

The wards were being lifted from the door behind him, and he turned to see Dumbledore entering, Snape behind him. He saw Snape study the scene before him, and was surprised to see Snape’s eyes open wide upon seeing the woman.

He turned back to Miss Moreland in time to see her smile widely at Snape. “Well, hello, there,” she said.

Snape said nothing, but his eyes narrowed, his brows seeming to meet at the middle with his frown. These two knew each other?

Dumbledore approached the table, leaving Snape behind near the door. He stood before the woman, sizing her up. “I understand you’ve not been forthcoming with information, Miss Moreland.”

“Neither have you,” she replied.

“We aren’t here to enlighten you,” he said. “We will have information from you, have no doubt about that. That’s why Severus is here with us. He’s our most skilled interrogator. It’s in your favor, of course,” he added. “If we simply left you to the Ministry, you’ll not have the chance to plead your case.”

She looked at Snape, who hadn’t moved from the door. She seemed to see something in his eyes that gave her pause, and Lupin saw apprehension appear for the first time in her eyes. Snape slowly came to stand at the table, his eyes never leaving hers. Lupin could feel the tension in the air, and wondered at it. Snape stood silently, looking down at her.

She met his stare, not wavering, yet not quite as relaxed as she had been. As Snape finally spoke, Lupin was surprised to hear the ice back in his voice once more. It sent a chill of dread down his back.

“Dariah,” the dark man hissed. “Fancy seeing you here.”


	9. Betrayal

Chapter Nine  
Betrayal

Lupin followed Professor Dumbledore out of the chamber, joining him on the bench across the corridor. His head was spinning, trying to understand the implications of what he’d just learned. He looked at the man next to him.

“She knows I’m a werewolf,” Lupin told him. “I wonder how much she knows that we can’t even guess at.”

“I would imagine Severus might have mentioned something about your being a werewolf to her. I wouldn’t read too much into that.”

“No, I can’t imagine him even bringing up that subject. She had to have gotten that information from somewhere else. I’ve always fought to keep that particular detail secret. Not even the press ever got wind of it. She just _knew._ ”

Dumbledore appeared thoughtful. “Was there any physical contact between the two of you before she mentioned it?”

“Yes,” he said, wondering what difference it made. “She almost ripped my arm off when I tried to arrest her.”

“She’s clairvoyant.”

Lupin wasn’t surprised that it had never occurred to him. He wasn’t used to dealing with Muggles. As long as he was aware she wasn’t a witch, he figured she had nothing going for her at all. “Were you aware they knew each other?” he asked.

“Not until just now,” came the answer.

Lupin fidgeted uncomfortably, but knew his next question must be asked. “How much trust do you place in Severus, Professor? I mean, is it possible he knew? Could he be one of the Death Eaters buying that information?”

Dumbledore looked at Lupin, sadly, it seemed to the younger man. “Severus knew many of the secrets that have already been imparted,” he said. “He’d have no reason to plead ignorance to the others if his loyalties were with them. And I do trust him. I trust him with my life and the lives of all the students in our care. He’s proven himself loyal to us time and time again.”

Lupin was humbled. He had known a little of what it cost Severus to spy on Voldemort and how difficult it was for him to keep his role secret from everyone but Order members. It had been one of the things he’d admired about Severus.

“I fear this woman is the one with whom Severus has been keeping company for the last few months,” Dumbledore was saying. “I don’t think she’s just any acquaintance. If this has shaken up his trust in her, I’m afraid it might just set him back quite a bit. I don’t want to think he’ll regress to the point of giving up completely on happiness, or to think he can’t trust his own instincts about others.”

“Perhaps he believes in her innocence. He’ll be able to get to the bottom of this, I’m sure. She’ll most likely talk to him even if she won’t talk to us, don’t you think?”

“Did you see his face when he saw her? He condemned her faster than I did.”

“Do you believe she’s involved?”

“I don’t know. I must be sure, especially if she’s a friend of Severus’. We’ll just have to wait and see what she tells him.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Severus was already coming out the door.

* * * *

Severus approached the bench, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to see the condemnation, or worse, pity, in their eyes. He’d been such a fool! “She won’t speak to me,” he said. “Do you have a plan? You realize Veritaserum will not work on her?”

Dumbledore nodded, but Lupin asked, “Why not?”

“Her psychic abilities might prevent the serum from being effective. That, coupled with her being a Muggle, would make us uncertain as to whether or not she’s vulnerable to the potion. We’d still have our doubts.”

Severus made an effort to stop grinding his teeth. He could feel a tension headache starting. What he really wanted to do was leave; to walk away and forget he’d ever met her.

“I’d like to get her permission to search her home and place of work, Severus,” the headmaster said. “If she’s willing, she can stay at the castle until we analyze whatever evidence we find of her complicity.”

“And if she doesn’t agree?”

“There are other ways, Severus.” The old man watched him carefully.

Severus met his eyes unflinchingly. “We must do what we must do, Headmaster. Can we expect interference from the Ministry?”

“Doubtful. Cornelius will be more than likely grateful to leave it in our hands.”

“What exactly are we thinking about, if she doesn’t cooperate?” asked Lupin.

Snape held his eyes steady on Lupin’s as he answered. “We will imprison her at Hogwarts while we search her premises. When we’re finished, we’ll Obliviate her memories of it so she doesn’t protest our actions, causing problems between the Ministry and Muggle lawyers.”

“Sounds extreme.”

“This entire situation is extreme. Had this information conduit continued, the entire Ministry could have been taken over by those who would take over where the Dark Lord had left off.”

Dumbledore stood up. “I will leave the two of you to bring her along. Meanwhile, I believe I should go back and prepare a room for her. Severus,” he said, “since I plan to keep her in the chamber next to your rooms, I will leave the warding of her doors and windows to you.”

Snape nodded, stepping back as the headmaster turned toward the elevators. He turned his attention to Lupin. This was the man who’d brought about the destruction of his world. As Lupin stood to head to the chamber, Snape grabbed him by his lapels and flung him forcefully into the stone wall. “You’ve been spying on us,” he accused. “Did you get some sort of perverse thrill out of setting her up? Was this a result of my rejection of you?”

Lupin rubbed his head where it had hit the wall. “Of course not! I didn’t even know you were seeing her. And I...”

Somehow, the quiet serenity of the man’s voice after Snape’s attack added to his rage, like alcohol thrown on a flame. Before he’d even thought about what he was doing, he felt his fist connect to Lupin’s jaw. He heard the sound of bone breaking. He watched stoically as Lupin crumpled to the floor at his feet.

“You could have brought your suspicions to me,” he told the injured man. “I would have dealt with it; the Ministry didn’t have to become involved.”

Lupin couldn’t answer; his face was already swelling. He stumbled to his feet, falling back against the wall. He looked up, making a show of opening the front of his robe very slowly, pointing to his wand. The fight went out of Snape. He nodded.

Lupin pointed his wand at himself, but couldn’t mumble the words necessary to Disapparate. Knowing things could only get worse if he splinched himself, Snape muttered a spell that would provide slight and temporary repair to the damage he’d done. He waited until Lupin Disapparated, then turned back to the chamber.

* * * *

Lupin had decided he’d rather seek medical care at St. Mungo’s as opposed to Hogwarts. He didn’t think he’d care to explain to anyone at the castle, least of all Dumbledore, what had happened. He moved along the streets of Muggle London, heading for the department store that posed as a front to the wizard hospital, pain making his steps slow and careful.

That Snape believed Lupin was capable of such low measures really burned him. He’d thought they were actually becoming friends! And it hadn’t really bothered him, being rejected. He hadn’t meant for Snape to know of his interest in the first place. It had been most distressing. It would have upset him much more if Snape shared those feelings. After all, he’d hero-worshipped Snape for a long time, and the thought of actually acting on his fantasies would have required much more courage than Lupin believed he possessed. Fantasies were so much safer and simpler.

He entered the hospital and looked at the directory. He couldn’t figure out which department he wanted. Most wizards and witches suffered injuries because of the improper or violent use of Magic; his injuries were much more suited to Muggles.

He turned to the Welcoming Witch, and sighed when it became clear that she fully expected him to _tell_ her what was wrong. He tried pointing to his jaw, but she was being obstreperous. He mimed hitting her with his fist, but she misunderstood and called for security.

As the mediguards dragged him away, he mentally cursed Snape again. Couldn’t he simply have hexed him with something and had done with it?

* * * *

She’d gone along complacently, surprising Snape. He’d expected at least a token protest at the invasion of her privacy. He’d escorted her to Hogwarts, installing her in a room next to his suite in the dungeons. Standing in the sitting room, he motioned toward the door opening off to the right. “Through there is a reasonably comfortable bedroom; there is your bathroom. Straight ahead, a kitchenette. If you like, you can have a house-elf bring you your meals. Otherwise, the cupboard inside will provide you with whatever you need for cooking. Simply ask for it.”

She looked at him as he explained, not interested in her surroundings. “My house will be empty all the while I’m here,” she said. “Will you go and check things now and then? Water the plants, make sure no one breaks in?”

“I suppose I could,” he answered. It was a reasonable request.

“Will you come and see me sometimes?”

“Whenever I need to update you on our progress,” he said coldly. “Don’t expect a social call from me. Ever.”

He turned his back on the hurt that flashed in her eyes. Leaning against her mantelpiece, he explained about the wards that locked her in. “You can open the windows for fresh air, but you won’t be able to climb out. The door won’t open for you at all.”

She said nothing as she sat on the arm of the sofa, fiddling with her necklace. There seemed to be nothing more to say. Allowing the silence to continue, hoping to make her uncomfortable, he held his tongue.

The silence stretched on, and it was Snape who began to feel uncomfortable. He looked over to find her staring at him. As their eyes met, he could almost feel the intensity of her look as she searched his eyes. He narrowed his gaze and decided that if she wanted to really know what he was feeling, he’d damn well show her.

He walked over to her and placed his hand softly on her face. She covered his hand with hers, and he thought of how she’d used him, how she took what he’d offered her and twisted it to her needs. He allowed the rage and pain he felt to consume him.

She snatched back her hand as if she’d been burned. Moving away from him, she entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her. He smiled grimly and walked out into the corridor, engaging the most complex wards he could think of to lock her away from his sight and his heart.


	10. The Gods are Laughing

Chapter Ten  
The Gods Are Laughing

Lupin sat at the desk in the corner of Miss Moreland’s shop. He once again went through all the drawers, searching for anything he may have missed in his earlier quest. There was nothing. He looked again at the framed photograph on her desk. She was pictured there with a man and another woman, their arms around each other and laughing at the camera. Hoping to learn who these other people were, he fiddled with the frame until he saw how it opened.

Sliding the picture out so he could examine the back of it, he found another photo underneath. This one was her alone; a small smile on her face, as if she shared a secret with the photographer. She’d been photographed kneeling upright on a sandy beach, a small scrap of bathing suit revealing slight curves and a tanned body. Lupin stared appreciatively, and was only slightly surprised at his visceral reaction. Although he preferred men, there had been a woman or two in his past that proved he wasn’t wholly gay.

She had been looking directly at the camera, and he felt as if her eyes were going right through him, delving into his very soul. He tried to better assess her by peering into those dark eyes, and he actually felt a small pull toward her, as if he’d been staring into a Pensieve instead of a Muggle photograph.

The photo had been taken on a sunny day, but the sunlight hadn’t been bright enough to cause her to squint against it. Her eyes were open and clear, and invited him to share her secrets. As he stared into their depths, he began to get the slightest doubts about her guilt. Such eyes as hers didn’t seem capable of duplicity.

Shaking himself out of his near-trance, he put the photo back in its place and looked at the back of the other. Nothing had been written on it, and he returned it to the frame. Standing up, stretching to remove the kinks, he wandered again around the shop, taking a mental inventory of her wares.

He enjoyed the aroma of the incense she sold, mixed with the scent of some of the candles. At the other side of the room, he examined the books, noting that most of them were Muggle versions of magical spells and charms. He snorted after browsing through a few of them. At least she hadn’t been selling secrets here, he noted. None of the spells would have been worth a damn. Muggles were a gullible lot.

He took the ledger he’d found on his first plunge through her desk, planning on showing it to Dumbledore for a second opinion. He didn’t think there was anything incriminating in there, but he wanted to be more than sure.

He Disapparated, joining the Aurors he’d sent to Miss Moreland’s home. He needed to make sure they left no stone unturned in their search.

* * * *

Snape tossed down his fourth whiskey, frustrated that the drinks had not done their job. He wanted to forget, to put away his problems, if only for a short while. He’d refrained from joining in the investigation, and Dumbledore hadn’t pushed it.

He’d seen Lupin just before the man left for Dariah’s shop. He surmised that Lupin had sought help for his broken jaw at St. Mungo’s; otherwise, news of his injury would have been running rampant through the castle by now. At dinner, he’d surreptitiously watched as Lupin ate, wondering if there had been any residual pain. He seemed to be healing passably; although Snape thought he chewed rather gingerly, he didn’t seem to avoid chewing at all.

He didn’t exactly feel guilty, but he did think perhaps he’d gone too far. As the headmaster hadn’t cornered him for an explanation, he could only conclude that Lupin hadn’t complained about it.

Knowing he could easily go from not feeling any of the whiskey to suddenly falling-down-drunk, he decided against another. He walked out of the Three Broomsticks, heading back to Hogwarts. If Lupin hadn’t returned with a progress report by the time Snape got back, he’d go straight to his rooms and call it a night. He found himself hoping the search was still in progress; he didn’t want any reason to have to talk to Dariah tonight.

Luck was with him, for a change. Meeting the headmaster in the main corridor, he learned that Lupin and his Aurors were still out; there was no word from them yet. He headed down the stairs to his dungeon rooms, kicking the door shut behind him, warding them out of habit.

Pulling off his cloak and tossing it aside, he headed for the large painting against the wall. Mumbling a soft incantation, he watched the soft colors swirl until he could look through them to the room on the other side of the wall.

Dariah was sitting on the sofa, staring into the fire. She was dressed for sleep. A green robe covered her, and he could see the lacy trim of a white gown underneath. She’d propped up her legs in front of her, her arms hugging them to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her unbound hair fell in waves over her shoulders, spilling onto her arms. She looked like a lost child, and a part of him longed to comfort her.

He pushed away from the painting, disgusted with himself. Perhaps the whiskey had finally kicked in. He waved his hand at the painting once again, returning it to its normal look, a landscape at sunset.

He knew the security breach at the Ministry had to have been done from the inside. The passwords and wards that had been compromised were protecting the Department of Transportation and Transfiguration. Once the invaders could take over that department, they would have access to any standing Portkey, any doorway into any other department. They could effectively control the Ministry, and therefore, the entirety of this wizarding country.

She had low friends in rather high places, he thought. And what rewards had come her way for it all? Acceptance into this world? He knew it was what she wanted. Wealth? She lived rather modestly, but perhaps she hadn’t yet come into her payoff. Empty promises of power? What motivated her?

He drew himself a hot bath and rested his aching head against the inclined rim of the luxurious tub. He stared at the high ceiling, willing his mind to clear, waiting for all his churning thoughts to disappear so he could concentrate.

He knew very little about her family, he realized. Every time he’d mentioned anything about his own background, inviting her to reciprocate, she’d deftly maneuvered the conversation away from herself. There were a few times he’d pointedly asked leading questions, curious about her past. Still, she had avoided talking about her parents and her siblings, if she had any.

And yet, he hadn’t become suspicious about her evasions. He, who had never in his adult life been taken by surprise when he’d turned his back on an enemy; he, whose disloyalty had never been discovered by the Dark Lord; he, who hadn’t lost a game of wizard chess since his first year as a student at Hogwarts. He was skilled in knowing how other wizards thought, and it was killing him that this Muggle woman had outfoxed him.

That’s what happened when one began to think with the wrong head.

He emptied the tub, not wanting to go through the trouble of warming up the now-cooled water. Using a spell to dry himself off, he fell into his bed, willing himself to fall right into a dreamless sleep, yet not wanting to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion. He’d been using too much of that, lately. Suppressing his dreams was bound to show up sooner or later, in his waking hours. Dreams were necessary in order to keep one’s sanity, and stronger wizards than he had found themselves going mad in such circumstances. He dared not be caught unaware once again, in the event he’d have to deal with Dariah.

He pulled the quilt over himself against the night’s chill, wondering if Dariah was still sitting on her sofa, still looking lost and forlorn. Against his will, his arms ached to reach out to her, to soothe away her cares, to feel her warmth again. As he drifted off into sleep, he could almost feel the soft smoothness of her creamy skin, could almost smell the spicy fragrance of her hair. He began to dream, and in his dream, he could feel the heat of her touch.

Her hands were lighting fires in every part of him she touched. She was sitting astride him, slowly, rhythmically riding him. Her hands on his shoulders, she teasingly smoothed them over his chest, teasing his male nipples. He groaned as she lingered there, knowing that each touch would send small jolts of excitement straight to his groin.

He put his hands on her hips to encourage her to increase her pace, and she took his wrists in her hands, forcing his arms over his head, leaning her weight forward to hold him there. He gasped at the surge of increased passion and his hips bucked up in response. He, the ex-Death Eater, had never known how exciting it could be to have control taken away; to be completely at the mercy of someone else, and in such a vulnerable situation.

She was getting close; he felt the tightening of her inner muscles around him, the increase of her body temperature. He moaned, urging her on with whispered words of encouragement. Closing his eyes as his body tensed, he became aware of a sudden sense of unease. He opened his eyes to see several of his former associates gathering around his bed, their Death Eater masks firmly in place.

Looking into her eyes, he knew that she’d summoned them here. The sudden jolt of adrenalin shooting through his body brought him quickly to a sitting position.

He found himself alone in his bed, the room otherwise empty, and sporting an erection he didn’t need. Cursing loudly, he blindly reached for the vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion he kept on his nightstand.

* * * *

Lupin had left the results of the search with Dumbledore. There hadn’t been much; a ledger where she kept records of her appointments with her clientele, her records of income and expenses, an inventory of the shop. At her house, there wasn’t much more. He thought it better to take too much than too little, so he turned over to the headmaster an address book, a date calendar, and some cryptic notes he’d found in her nightstand drawer.

She used a Muggle bank for some of her money, but also had an account at Gringotts. A thorough check of both only hinted at a modest income, and she paid her bills on time. Unless there was a hidden account somewhere, she wasn’t wealthy.

He felt as if he knew her much better, once he’d taken a close look at her personal belongings. Her taste in literature ran to the classics, both Muggle and Wizard; her choice in music was eclectic. According to her pantry, food was just an afterthought, but she had plenty of pots and pans to prove she could and did cook.  


Her house was clean, although by now it could use a good dusting. He’d watered a few of the plants he’d seen that were looking a little wilted; atonement for the upheaval of her life, just on the off-chance it proved to be a mistake. He found himself beginning to hope it was. As he’d walked around her home, he began to get a pretty good sense of her personality, and he found that he wanted to know her better. He felt both curious and protective about her, and he wondered if Muggles had a particular magic of sorts unknown to wizards.

As he was beginning to feel decidedly guilty probing into her personal life, he’d gladly left all final analysis of the ‘evidence’ with the headmaster. He really didn’t want to make any decisions regarding Miss Moreland...Dariah...because he worried that those decisions might be slightly biased. If she did have a special sort of magic about her, Lupin knew he’d already fallen victim to it. He mentioned none of this to Dumbledore, fearing he’d appear insane.

Bright and early the next morning, Lupin was sitting before the headmaster’s desk, reviewing with the old wizard what they’d found, and had not found, in their investigation. “She’s still not talking at all?” Lupin asked.

“I must confess, I haven’t seen her since we tried to question her at the Ministry. I haven’t yet seen Severus this morning; he’d skipped breakfast again.”

“On the face of it, I would hazard a guess that we’re simply barking up the wrong tree,” Lupin suggested. “There are others Tachonas had been in close contact with; surely one of them must have been supplying him with the information.”

“Yes, we’re searching that end as well,” Dumbledore agreed. “I expect something in the way of a report by the end of the day. Harry Potter had apparently found out something surprising that he only hinted at; I assume he wanted to investigate further before accusing anyone of anything.”

“I wonder if we shouldn’t have showed the same caution,” Lupin said. “There seems to be nothing connecting Dariah to Tachonas except a simple and straight-forward friendship.”

“You’re on a first name basis, are you?”

Lupin flushed guiltily. “It seems pretentious to be so formal, seeing as how I’ve seen more of her personal life than most of her friends, most likely.”

“And what did you learn about her, as far as goes her personality, her character? You know we can’t learn everything from documents and books.”

“She seems to me to be a very warm and open woman,” he said. “She has a touch of mystery about her, but I felt nothing sinister or deceitful about her.”

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, looking down at the ledger before him. “Her books are self-explanatory. She’s meticulous in her record-keeping, probably due to Muggle insistence that taxes be paid and everything be proven with records and receipts. Her shop caters to the Muggle population that want escape from their world. She doesn’t cheat them, apparently, but rather feeds into their need to hear certain things.”

“I caught a look at some of the books she’s selling,” Lupin said, smiling. “She’s not giving away any secrets there. That brand of magic wouldn’t work even if you or I tried it.”

Dumbledore didn’t answer; he had a faraway look in his eyes.

Lupin stood, catching the headmaster’s attention. “If there’s nothing else, I thought I might have a word with Severus.”

The old man nodded silently, and Lupin left the office, searching out the Potions Master in his dungeons. He found him easily enough; he was standing over a cauldron, a nearly-pleasant aroma filling the lab. Definitely not the Wolfsbane Potion this time, then. That stuff smelled noxious.

“Severus, could I have a word? I’m not breaking your concentration?”

“That wouldn’t be so easy for you to do, Lupin. What is it you require?”

A coldness to the words. Lupin absentmindedly rubbed his still-aching jaw and sat on a desk far enough away from the dark-haired wizard to feel he would have time to defend himself if necessary. “Have you spoken to Dariah since we brought her here?”

“Only briefly when I locked her in her room.”

“You mean no one has seen her since?”

“I see her every time I look through that landscape on my wall.”

“I’d forgotten you had that. She’s doing well, then?”

Snape narrowed his eyes, either in agitation at the question or as a shield against the fumes of the cauldron; Lupin couldn’t be sure. “I assume so. She hasn’t been pounding at the door to get out, at any rate.”

Lupin studied the man, wanting to break through his defenses to see what was really going through his head. “Don’t you care how she’s holding up? I mean, she knows we’re searching her things; she knows she’s our prisoner until we decide to let her go.”

“No, I don’t particularly care. Should I?”

Lupin drew a deep breath, and moved his hand a little closer to his wand. “So, you don’t really care about her then. It was just sex?”

“What else are Muggles good for?”

Whatever Lupin had expected, it wasn’t this. Either Severus had anticipated these questions and had schooled himself against them, or he really had frozen his heart against Dariah’s alleged betrayal. “We haven’t been able to find anything to link her to Tachonas’ activities. And yet Albus keeps her here. Has he told you what he hopes to gain by it?”

“No, but he must have his reasons. He’s always shown good judgment; I have no reason to doubt him now.”

There was nothing more Lupin could say. Standing, he left the lab without another word. He turned toward the stairs, but hesitating, he decided to retrace his steps. Passing the lab, where Severus was still working, he headed to Dariah’s make-shift prison. He knocked, waiting until he heard her answer, then let down the wards, shaking his head at the complexity of them. Severus had not been kidding around when setting them.

He joined her before the fire, sitting on the sofa next to her. “I hope you’re comfortable here?” he asked.

She looked at him, then raised one eyebrow and tilted her head slightly in a gesture of indifference. “I’m not _un_ comfortable,” she allowed.

“We really appreciate your cooperation in all of this,” he said. “You could have made things much more difficult for us.”

“And did you find anything that worries you?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he equivocated. “The headmaster is making the decisions as to what it all might mean.” How cowardly to pass the buck to the absent man, he chided himself.

He looked more closely at her, taking in the circles under her eyes, the lethargy that seemed to enshroud her like a cloak. He glanced at the tray a house-elf had delivered, probably some time ago, and worried when he saw that she hadn’t touched it. He wondered when she’d last eaten. “Is there anything I can get for you, Dariah? Anything I can do?”

She smiled, and Lupin was reminded of the eyes he’d seen in the photographs. It caused him to smile back, seeing at least a trace of the cheer she’d once had. “No, thank you, Remus. Unless you can give me a hint as to when I might be getting out of here.”

“I’m afraid that will be up to Professor Dumbledore,” he said, wishing he could let her out right now. “I don’t know how far he’s progressed in his interpretation of the documents we’ve found. Could I ask you, though--” He hesitated, aware that she’d answered none of their questions so far. “I found a journal in the drawer of the nightstand in your room. I couldn’t follow the writing. Would you tell me what that’s all about?”

She smiled widely, even allowing a small chuckle. He was heartened.

“Those were letters I’ve started writing to my friends. One would have been written in Greek; an old friend from my school days who went back to Athens after graduation. Another would have been Irish Gaelic; that friend is in Dublin. He insists on my using the Irish because he’s on a campaign to revive the language. Still another letter would have been written in Russian; I have a friend in Minsk who’s helping me with lessons in the language. We converse strictly in Russian until I have a better grasp of it.”

He took her at her word; that sort of thing could be too easily checked for her to lie about it. Dumbledore probably already figured it out, having at least a conversational fluency in many languages. He filed away the information to add to everything else he’d learned about her. That she maintained distant friendships didn’t surprise him. It fit in with her natural warmth and her loneliness.

He stood, not knowing how else to prolong his visit. She stood with him, and at the door, she hung back, giving him room to let down the wards. He turned to thank her for her time, and surprised himself by touching her face gently.

“I’m so sorry about all this,” he said, not caring what Dumbledore would think.

She leaned into his hand, covering it with hers, and he felt a peculiar sensation filling him. Before he could remove his hand and take his leave, she leaned over and kissed his cheek tenderly, smiling her good-bye. Nonplussed, he left the room, only half-aware of what he was doing in replacing the wards.

As he headed toward the stairs and the main level of the castle, he hummed a happy tune under his breath.

* * * *

As Snape rounded the corner before the gargoyle, he almost stepped on Lucius Malfoy. The elegant wizard was staring at the unhelpful gargoyle as if hoping it would whisper its password. “Malfoy! Surprising to see you here.”

“Hello, Severus. Why so surprising? You didn’t think Azkaban would hold me for long, did you? There are too many at the Ministry who will never believe I’m even capable of the horrible things I’ve been accused of. Are you pleased to see me?”

Snape ducked the question. “You have business with Professor Dumbledore?”

“Purely a social call. I like to keep my hand in.”

Snape wondered if Malfoy was aware that Dumbledore had less trust in Malfoy than he’d had in Voldemort himself.

They both turned to watch the stairway as the gargoyle spun away. Dumbledore himself descended the steps before them. He didn’t seem surprised to see either Malfoy or Snape standing there. “Lucius, Severus,” he greeted. “I trust you’re both well?”

“Fine, Professor Dumbledore. And you?” The silk in the platinum-haired wizard’s voice took on an oily sound that Snape wasn’t sure Lucius was aware of.

“Can’t complain,” came the answer. “It doesn’t do any good. Lucius, please forgive me, but I have an urgent matter to attend to. Severus, a word?”

“Nothing serious, I hope?” Malfoy’s eyes glittered.

“That remains to be seen.”

Snape nodded to Malfoy and followed the headmaster up to his office. A couple of minutes later, he sat before Albus’ desk. “And there’s nothing there to implicate her?”

“Nothing.”

“Forgive my asking, Headmaster,” he said carefully, not wishing to show any doubts, “but why is she still here?”

Dumbledore looked down at his lap. “When was the last time you spoke to her, Severus?”

“Two nights ago, when we brought her here.”

The old man sighed audibly, and Snape thought he looked older somehow. “And have you been keeping an eye on her, courtesy of your landscape?”

“Periodically.”

“How does she seem to you? What has her mood been?”

“Quiet. She hasn’t seemed restless or agitated.”

“Depressed?”

“I wouldn’t know, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, looking down at his hands. “I had hoped that by keeping her here, even when I began to doubt her guilt, that you might reach out to her. I had spinelessly hoped you could smooth over my mistake in bringing her here. I had thought it would be good for both of you.”

“I daresay she’ll get over it,” Snape said dryly. “She had to have known her activities would draw suspicion to her. What else could we have done?”

Silence. Snape didn’t know what he could do to relieve the old wizard’s guilt. He stood. “If there’s nothing else, Albus?”

Dumbledore brought his hand up to his eyes, rubbing at his temples. “No, son, there’s nothing more.”

Snape left him, knowing the old wizard would now release Dariah. He need not think about her anymore. He headed to his rooms, knowing he wouldn’t bother engaging the charms to see through the landscape. He would make an early night of it, and wait for the morning to begin a better day.


	11. Mistakes That Haunt

Chapter Eleven  
Mistakes That Haunt

Dariah walked up the path leading to her front door, taking in the dead plants hanging from pots on her porch. Nothing else looked amiss, but it hurt to know Severus hadn’t bothered stopping by. He’d said he would. But she knew how much he loathed her; she was probably lucky he _hadn’t_ paid any attention to her.

She walked through the door, noticing the stale air of the room. Looking around, she was pleased to see the Aurors hadn’t ripped apart the house in their search. She took a few steps toward the kitchen, and suddenly, she could no longer feel the floor beneath her feet. She could see nothing of the world around her, nothing of her familiar possessions; she was floating in an unending black void. She felt a heavy curtain of fatigue overtake her, and she gave in to it; there was no decision involved in this. _This must be what it feels like to die._ No part of her physical body was in pain, but her last conscious thought was of the excruciating agony that surrounded her psyche like a wet haze.

* * * *

Snape didn’t get an early night of it. Setting aside his whiskey, ignoring the tray some misguided house-elf had brought him, he answered the call of Dumbledore’s Floo-summons. Not wanting to negotiate all those steps while he was half-crocked, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped into his fireplace. What could possibly be wrong _now_?

His irritation with the headmaster disappeared as soon as Snape stepped from the fireplace into the office. Dumbledore had a most serious look on his tired face as he contemplated his steepled fingers. Snape silently moved to the chair before the desk.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Severus.”

“It sounded urgent, Headmaster. What’s the problem?”

“Have you released Miss Moreland?”

“No, I assumed you did that.”

“Yes, I really didn’t think you would unless I specifically asked you to do so. And Remus hasn’t been here to do it. He, too, would have waited for my request before acting.”

“Are you saying that she’s taken herself out of that chamber?”

“I fear it may be more serious than that. The three of us are the only ones who know the wards you used on those doors and windows. No one could Floo in or out of the room. And yet, the house-elf who took in her dinner tray was concerned when he couldn’t find her anywhere in her chamber. He notified me, expressing his disapproval that the kitchen and cleaning elves hadn’t been notified of her departure. His schedule was upset.”

“Could she have managed to escape?”

“Impossible.”

He’d already known that, but the obvious conclusion was something he wasn’t prepared to consider. “A well-meaning house-elf, perhaps?”

“Only Dobby would have the nerve to try it, and he didn’t. I’ve already questioned him, as well as a few others.”

“No signs of unauthorized entry?”

“None. Severus, I do believe it’s time to worry.”

* * * *

Lupin followed silently as Snape walked through Dariah’s house, searching each room for any sign of her. They had no way of knowing if she’d even been here, and there were no signs of forced entry. He ran to catch up to Snape as the other man shot out the back door into the yard. He looked over the modest grounds, staring for a long moment at the area not far from the only tree. He seemed to be deep in thought, and Lupin didn’t want to distract him.

Blowing out his breath, Snape leaned back against the porch railing. He looked up at the stars, but Lupin noticed that his eyes kept returning to the area near the tree.

“Where else would she go, Severus?”

“Nowhere. Of course she’d come home first. There’s no evidence she was here. She would have opened a window or two; she would have taken the sour milk from the refrigerator. I don’t think she was here.”

“Do you have any theories on what happened?”

“Lucius Malfoy was in the castle this afternoon.”

“Why would he take her?”

“I shudder to think.”

“But how could he have managed it?”

Snape ignored the question and pushed off from the railing, heading around the house as he waved his wand to ward her doors. Lupin followed him through Dariah’s front gate. He headed right, toward Diagon Alley, almost running into the form that was on the pathway. He stopped short, and Lupin caught himself before tripping over both of them.

“Is she all right, then?” A woman’s voice. It had been hard to tell in the darkness.

“You know her?” Snape’s voice was brusk, and the woman said nothing, backing away.

Snape looked to Lupin, who understood his unspoken message. Sometimes tact was called for, and Snape was a wizard who knew his limitations.

“We’re friends of hers, and we came looking for her because we fear she may be in danger. Have you seen her at all today?”

The woman seemed to be sizing him up, and nodded briefly. Apparently, Lupin had passed muster. “I saw her heading up to the door at around six,” she said. “But I was busy with supper and the kids, so I thought I’d stop by later. You know, she never said she was going anywhere. And she looked tired, it seemed to me.”

“So, did you see her later? Was she with anyone?”

“She was alone, and by the time I fed the kids and got them settled in for the night, it was almost nine o’clock. But her lights were out; I thought maybe she _had_ been tired, and just went to sleep. I didn’t want to bother her. What kind of danger?”

“We don’t know yet, but she’s missing. If you see her tonight, could you tell her to please contact Hogwarts? She has a lot of people worried about her.”

“Yeah, I’m one of ‘em, now.” She looked more closely at Snape. “You’re the one I keep seeing around,” she said. “You two have a fight or something?”

Snape ignored the question and walked past the woman, heading toward the Alley. Lupin thanked her, apologizing for Snape’s behavior with a shrug, then followed him.

“Where to now?” he asked, running out of breath.

“Knockturn Alley. Maybe someone there will tell us something. There was one witch, the one that sells toads’ teeth, who always showed an inordinate interest in Dariah.” Lupin saw him check his pocket, and knew the man carried a vial of one potion or another at all times.

“You think you’ll need to coerce some cooperation? What sort of potion do you have there?” He still wasn’t certain what to expect. Was Snape concerned for Dariah’s safety, or was he enraged because he’d been pulled into the search for her?

“Veritaserum. It probably won’t be necessary. The witch I spoke of might have more trouble keeping quiet than talking.”

* * * *

They entered the Alley, and Severus noticed that Lupin kept close by. He didn’t really blame the man. Even he had reservations about being here too long after dark.

At the bottom of the steps, he searched in the dim light. He spotted her right away; she never seemed to be without the large basket she claimed to be filled with toads’ teeth. She was talking to a small group of witches. As they neared, three of the women, noticing their approach, made themselves scarce. Snape continued on to the witch that remained, standing as closely as he dared. Clearly, this witch didn’t know the value of a good bar of soap.

“Well, ‘ello, dearie,” the woman called out. “Ain’t seen you here in a while!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lupin look questioningly at him. He ignored the man and the comment. “We’re looking for Dariah. When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Oh, you went and lost ‘er now, did ya? Have a fight?”

“Have you seen her today?”

“You might be wasting your time with that ‘un,” she said, cackling loudly. “There’s plenty ‘round here that’s willin’.”

Snape ground his teeth together, striving for patience. “We are in rather a hurry, madam; she may be in danger.”

“Nonsense! That ‘un can take care of ‘erself! And didn’t she ‘ave you up against the wall? You should learn not to set ‘er off!” She opened her mouth wide and brayed, showing off the four teeth that still dared to dwell there.

Snape shot a look at Lupin, silently daring him to ask. Lupin choked on his laughter, ducking his head.

Snape drew out his wand, pinning the decrepit old witch to the wall by almost gouging out her throat. “Have. You. Seen. Her. Today?”

The cackling ceased abruptly, the whites of her eyes showing her terror. Sometimes a vile reputation came in handy, Snape ruminated.

“No, guv, not for a long time.” It came out in a hoarse whisper.

“And what about the rumor mill?” he continued mercilessly. “What gossip have you heard?”

“Nothing to do with her, sir.”

He turned away from her abruptly, and strode quickly from the Alley. He could hear Lupin running to catch up. As he turned the corner, he instinctively aimed his wand to block the hex he knew she would send his way. Did she think he wouldn’t have expected it?

* * * *

Lupin caught up with Snape at the top of the stairs. He rounded the corner, almost tripping over Snape, who’d been leaning against the wall, his hands resting on his knees. As Lupin stood panting, Snape looked up at him. “I can think of only one more place to look,” he said. “We have to find a way into the Malfoy Mansion.”

Lupin heard the despair in his voice, and knew the man had never stopped caring.

* * * *

Dariah looked out into the huge garden, watching the fluzzertork buzzing from flower to flower. Its color changed with every sample of the sweet nectar. Turning back into the room at the sound of the wards being lowered, she watched the man enter, his movements graceful and confident. She looked into his eyes, waiting.

“I understand you didn’t want breakfast,” he said softly. “Nor dinner last night. Is there anything special I can have the house-elves prepare? They’re very distressed, and just waiting for the chance to appeal to your palate.”

“It isn’t the food; I’m sure it’s very good. I’m just not hungry.” She thought it prudent not to antagonize the man. His eyes bothered her.

He slowly lifted his hand to touch her cheek. He had soft hands; probably never saw a day of manual labor in his life. He smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling. She sensed something unspeakable in him, and, although she would never be able to find the words to describe it, it nauseated her.

“How long am I going to be here? And why am I here?” He’d never explained anything to her, and she wasn’t sure if he was from the Ministry or from Hogwarts. Or if this was one of Marcus’ nefarious friends.

“I was hoping you’d be a permanent part of my household,” he said hypnotically. “I could make your every wish come true. I know how you made your living; here, you wouldn’t have those silly little worries, like taxes, bills, the crowds of Muggle London. I could make you very happy.”

“I _was_ happy.”

“You’re not the least little bit happy here? Haven’t I treated you well?”

“At what cost? When will I find out why I’m really here?”

He smiled, and she was reminded of someone from her childhood. A boy from grammar school used to smile like that just before hitting someone. The smile was as empty as his eyes. Just like this man. She shuddered.

He withdrew his hand, bowing as he backed away from her. “If you should change your mind about breakfast, or anything else, please call me. Call out my name, and I’ll hear you, no matter where in the mansion I happen to be.”

“But I don’t know your name.”

He seemed surprised; perhaps he was something of a celebrity in the wizarding world. “Malfoy,” he told her. “Lucius Malfoy, at your service.” He bowed once more before he left the room, and she heard the wards being put in place once again. She fell on the bed, too spent to cry, too tired to worry about her future.

_What_ future? What did she have to look forward to now? What possible reason could she find to induce her to climb out of bed every morning? How would her life be if she simply gave in; if she stayed with this empty man, having her every wish come true? What price would he exact for that?

And what difference would any of it make to her now?

* * * *

Snape made another round of the corridors of the school, his very presence putting terror into the students hapless enough to be caught in his path. He’d walked miles in his agitation, it being impossible for him to stand still for any more than five seconds at a time.

He again cursed the need for secrecy. He had been prepared to face down Malfoy, to take on whatever Death Eaters would have been in waiting. In his present mood, the late Dark Lord Himself might have thought twice about standing in his way.

But the calm and insistent voice of the headmaster had sedated him somewhat. Of course he couldn’t be the one to approach the Malfoy Mansion; his work as a spy for the Order was still very much needed. Dumbledore had urged Cornelius Fudge to send out the Aurors, promising hard evidence of Malfoy’s illegal dabbling in the Dark Arts. And evidence would be found; it had been Snape himself who had provided the Dark Arts artifacts that were then planted on the premises by Nome, the Malfoy house-elf who was actually a freed elf in the employ of Dumbledore.

But it was beyond even Snape’s controlled patience to sit quietly for the Aurors to return with their report. He walked out of the castle to patrol the grounds outside. He left a path of destroyed rosebushes and startled Kneazles in his wake, seeking out the dark shadows in search of libidinous teenagers on which to expel some of his frustration. There weren’t many house-points left in any of the Houses to remove; if he assigned any more detentions, he’d have to engage the help of all the other staff in order to supervise them.

He leaned heavily back onto the wall of the castle, his arms clenched around his middle, trying to quell the nervous tension there. It had been two weeks since Dariah’s disappearance. Two weeks of Fudge’s waffling. The timid Minister was so intimidated by the Malfoy clout that he’d needed a lot of convincing to permit the raid. It took a more direct threat from Dumbledore for any real action to commence.

Snape felt the leaden weight of real fear consume him. He couldn’t stop from remembering the results of Malfoy’s previous victims. His legs tried to buckle at the thought of Dariah suffering the same fate.

Looking up at the night sky, he looked at the stars. He thought fancifully that wherever she was, Dariah might just now be seeing those same stars. Stargazing together again. He concentrated on that concept, and it gave him a measure of peace, enabling him to straighten up, to square his shoulders and again wear that stoical mask of passivity that the world around him had come to expect.

He headed back into the castle, better prepared to wait for the Aurors to report to Dumbledore.


	12. Assessing the Damage

Chapter Twelve  
Assessing the Damage

Lupin peered into the Great Hall over the heads of students entering and leaving, searching for the white head of Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster was seated at the High Table. Lupin turned back to the corridor, rounding the corner to poke his head in at the door near the back of the Hall. He waved frantically, and as Hagrid noticed him, Lupin pointed toward the headmaster. Hagrid nodded in understanding and nudged Dumbledore, gesturing to the back door. The white-haired wizard’s eyebrows lifted, and he stood, moving to join Lupin at the door. Lupin turned back to the corridor, pacing while he waited. It seemed the old wizard was moving much more slowly these days; he was aging quickly.

As Albus finally entered the corridor, Lupin motioned him over to a dark recess near the door that acted as a shortcut to many of the castle’s chambers.

“What news, Remus?”

“The Aurors were successful. They’ve reported to Fudge, and Hemlin’s waiting in your office to speak to us.”

“Have they found any evidence of Miss Moreland’s having been there?”

“She’s down in the chamber next to Severus’ rooms. I haven’t seen her yet.”

He quickly took Albus’ arm before the man collapsed. Leaning against the wall, Albus collected himself, waving away Lupin’s concern. “Does Severus know?”

“I haven’t spoken to him, yet. I just now got a Floo-summons from Hemlin.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes, thinking hard. He opened them almost immediately, and Lupin was relieved to see some of that old strength coming back into them.

“You must go and see to Miss Moreland. See that she gets any medical attention she needs from Poppy Pomfrey. Hopefully, anything more, such as St. Mungo’s, will not be necessary. Assure her that we will protect her; if she insists on leaving the castle, go with her and ward her home against unwanted entry. Stay with her until she either kicks you out forcibly, or until I summon you.”

“Yes, Headmaster.”

“Have you heard anything from, or about, Harry Potter?”

Lupin was startled. “No,” he said, wondering. “Should I have?”

“Probably not. He holds his secrets close until they need not be secret any longer. More on that later, I think. Lemon drop?”

Lupin smiled. It was good to have the old man back again. “No, thank you.”

Dumbledore turned and headed toward the stairway, the smallest bounce in his step. Lupin headed down to the dungeons, sobering at the thought of what hell Dariah must be in after her ordeal at the hands of Malfoy.

Entering the chamber quietly, not knowing what was going through the woman’s mind, he wondered why it was so dark. He waved his wand to the fireplace, and once he had a fire lit, he added a few candles to brighten the room enough to see where he was going.

She wasn’t in the sitting room. He looked through the open bedroom door and saw a pair of denim-clad legs on the bed. Cautiously entering the room, he looked at her. Even from the dim light coming into the bedroom from the fireplace, he could see she was awake. She sat up as he entered the room.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

“Of course I do, Remus. You were very nice to me while I was being held here.”

It seemed so long ago. He supposed it was, especially for her. It had been three weeks ago that he’d first met her in the diner and almost lost his arm, and probably a kidney as well. And what had the last two weeks been like for her, under Malfoy’s roof?

“Do you need medical care?”

“I just want to know when I get to go back home.”

“It may be hard to believe after what’s happened, but we can better protect you here, at the castle. Now that we know who it is from whom you need protection. How can I talk you into staying?”

“I don’t feel safe here. Will you keep me here, anyway?”

Lupin sat down on the bed next to her. She didn’t move away, and he was encouraged. It was a good sign that she hadn’t lost her trust of others completely. “I can take you home. I’d like to stay with you long enough to ensure that your home is safe for you. All right?”

She slowly nodded, standing. Having no reason to linger, he led her to the outer door of the chamber, removing the wards and escorting her out. They passed by the door to Severus’ rooms, and he glanced at her, hoping Severus wouldn’t choose that moment to emerge from within. He didn’t know how the two would react to each other.

They continued unmet by anyone. They reached the Dark Forest, where he led her more deeply into the trees to a point unseen by the casual observer. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he Disapparated them to the path in front of her house. Not knowing if she’d ever Apparated before, he kept his arm around her until he could be sure she’d regained her footing. She clutched at him, holding tight, and he stood silently, tightening his grip on her.

She loosened her grip after a moment or two, looking apologetically at him. “That’s a hell of a thing,” she said. “You folks do that regularly?”

“Yes, we do. It does take a bit of getting used to. Was that your first time Apparating?”

“I think so. I don’t know _what_ happened before.” Her voice trailed off at the memory, and Lupin decided he wouldn’t push her to talk about her abduction unless she did. He led her into her house, using a charm and concentrating to see if there’d been anyone around since he and Severus had last been here. The house was, and had been, empty.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “No one is here. You’re safe. Or you will be once I’ve set the wards. Once they’re in place, only those you allow in will be able to cross the wards.”

“I can’t perform magic, Remus.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, mildly gratified to hear his first name on her lips. She did seem to trust him, in spite of all she knew about him and this strange world she’d gotten herself into. Normally, by this time of the month, and with the impending advent of the full moon in the last week, people tended to sense his oddness and so shied away from him.

“I’ll just take care of those wards now, then we can get you settled back in.”

He explained how the wards worked as he set them all around the property, letting his voice lull her, soothe away her tension. As he walked around the house, he was mildly amused to see her swiping at the dust on the surfaces. At her question, he assured her that she could open any windows or doors she wanted; it wouldn’t interfere with the protection the wards offered. She began to open most of the windows to allow the evening breezes to waft away the stale air that had settled in her home.

Back in the kitchen, she put on a kettle and started throwing away old food from the refrigerator. They took their tea into the living room, where she kicked off her shoes and settled comfortably next to him on the sofa. He could see that being home again, with all her familiar things around her, she was beginning to feel better. Wondering if he should begin to question her about her recent experiences, he set aside his tea. How to approach a subject he knew she’d been avoiding?

“Malfoy caught us entirely by surprise,” he began. “It never occurred to us that anything like that could happen.”

She said nothing, sipping her tea, her hands wrapped around the cup.

“Dariah, did...When you were... Are you sure you don’t require medical care?”

“I’m sure.” Nothing more. He didn’t know if she was all right physically, but he had no choice but to take her at her word. He didn’t know the spells one could use for a quick medi-scan. Perhaps Severus could do that later. Right now, he was worried about the psychological and emotional scars she was hiding.

“Did he use any magic against you? I mean besides what he did when he took you from here.” He willed her to answer. They had to start somewhere, and he was at a loss. Dumbledore sent the wrong wizard to do this. He felt hopelessly inept.

“Yes.” He let out his breath, not having been aware he’d been holding it. He decided he’d better take her through it, as much as she’d allow, step-by-step.

“How did you come to leave your room at the castle?”

She creased her forehead, searching her memory. “I heard the wards being lifted...then nothing. I finally just tried the door and it opened. So, I just walked away. When I got past that gate out in front, I began walking down the road to the town at the end of it.”

“You didn’t think it odd that no one was there to take you home?”

“No, not really,” she said. “I mean I didn’t expect a glad-to-have-met-you-but-farewell-dinner type of thing.”

In spite of himself and the situation, he laughed. “Well, I doubt Professor Dumbledore would have made a big deal out of it, but we wouldn’t have just left you to find your own way out of there. And you would have gotten quite a lavish apology, I think. So, you went into Hogsmeade,” he said, to induce her to continue. “Wizard town, just like Diagon Alley.”

“As I entered it, I saw a railway station. There was no one else around; I thought it was defunct. No ticket-master, no train, no people. But there was a carriage there, with a strange-looking beast to pull it. It was black, and looked kind of like a horse, but different. Like it had mated with a dragon, or something.”

“Sounds like a thestral. Not everyone can see them,” he added thoughtfully. Who had she seen die? Her family? A friend? He wished he knew more about her background, her past.

“Then a man got down from the top of it and opened the door for me. I explained that I had no money for fare, and he laughed, saying there was no charge. So, I got in. We flew to Diagon Alley and I got out. When I turned to thank him, he and the carriage, and that...thestral...had vanished.” She shrugged. “I went home. It didn’t seem that strange somehow.” She put aside her tea and shifted on the sofa.

“What happened when you got home?”

“I entered the house, and suddenly...nothing. There was nothing. No world around me; no sound; no light. It was just...black. I don’t know how long I was in that blackness; I had no sense of time. When I became aware again, I was in that room where they found me.”

“Did you feel any pain at the time?”

“Yes, sort of. It’s difficult to describe. No part of me hurt, and yet the pain was all around me.” She looked at him, the question in her eyes.

“Yes, it sounds like the Stupefy. A very powerful Stupefy. It must have been Malfoy himself who’d done that to you. And when you came to in that room, what then?”

“He was there. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but it was the man who later told me his name was Lucius Malfoy. He acted like I had accepted an invitation to be his house-guest; he was very friendly in his manner, and it was disconcerting. Especially when I noticed that his smile never reached his eyes. No matter what his mood, then or later, his eyes never changed...”

She broke off, and suddenly fell forward against Lupin’s chest. His arms came up automatically to comfort her, and he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her, murmuring what he hoped were soothing words to calm her. He wouldn’t push her any further just now, he decided. He’d do this slowly.

As he smoothed her hair down her back, he silently cursed all the monsters in the world like Malfoy, who had the power to make innocent people feel like this.

* * * *

Snape sat at the table in his kitchenette, the nearly empty bottle of whiskey pushed away and forgotten. His arms were crossed on the surface of the table, his head resting on them. He wished Albus would leave him to his solitude. He hated showing this weakness to anyone, especially the old wizard, who was like a father to him.

“He hasn’t called for Poppy, so I think that’s good news,” Dumbledore was saying. “He’s with her now, warding her home against invasion. I think she’ll be all right, now. Do you want to go there? I can call Remus back.”

He’d sobered up quickly at the news that she’d been found. But he stopped short of seeking her out. He strongly suspected he was the last person, next to Malfoy, that she’d want to see. And rightly so. He was no good for her. He’d been so quick to believe what there had been no proof of, and he had been right next door, oblivious, when she was abducted. All he’d had to do was look through the damned landscape, and he might have been able to prevent what followed.

And what did follow? It wouldn’t have taken Malfoy a full two weeks to break her down to his will. What horrible ordeal had she suffered because he’d been so worried about his own pride that it had clouded his judgment so severely? She would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.

He realized Dumbledore was waiting for his answer. “No, Albus,” he said, finally. “I think Lupin is better suited to help her now. I’m just relieved to know she’s safe.”

He heard the old wizard stand up; felt the light touch of the wrinkled hand on his head. When he lifted his head from his arms, the room was empty; the whiskey gone. He smiled wryly. Either Albus thought two more shots would make an alcoholic out of Snape or he’d simply snatched the opportunity to steal the fine whiskey he coveted, but never seemed to stock.

He forced himself to stand, putting one foot in front of the other until he could fall on his bed. The sudden loss of tension was replaced by an overwhelming fatigue and he fell asleep; too tired to undress, or even to get under the quilt. He had several nights of sleep to catch up on.


	13. Incommunicado

Chapter Thirteen  
Incommunicado

Snape dodged a line of Muggle vehicles, heading for the shop across the street. He hated being in Muggle London; there were too many people wandering about, seemingly impervious to the damage one of these speeding automobiles could do. He didn’t understand how all these people could move up and down the pathways without bumping into each other; they seemed to have some sort of protective force field working for them, as they never seemed to look at each other.

As he neared Dariah’s shop, he was puzzled to see the windows covered over in some sort of film; it looked as though it had been smeared on, probably to hide what was inside. But why would she do that? Wouldn’t she want prospective clients to see her wares?

He tried the door, becoming worried when he found it locked. It wasn’t even three o’clock; she would normally have been here for another couple of hours. He peered into the window between smears, but couldn’t see much.

He turned around, leaning against the frame of the archway, staring out at the traffic without seeing it. It had taken him a long time to build up the nerve to seek her out. Once he’d decided to face her, he couldn’t get here quickly enough. He wanted to apologize for what he’d believed and felt. He also wanted to see if she hated him.

He pushed away from the doorway, heading back to Diagon Alley. If she wasn’t working, she’d no doubt be at home. He worried about that; it had been a full week since her release. If she hadn’t felt up to opening her shop, he had to conclude that Malfoy had done more damage than Lupin was able to report.

His steps slowed as he walked down the Alley toward the outskirts. She’d never forgive him, he knew. If he hadn’t ignored her, Malfoy would never have been able to do whatever he did to her. Rage toward Malfoy enabled him to keep walking, down the lane, through the gate, and up to her front door.

His thoughts tied up with trying to find the words to beg forgiveness, it took him a while to realize she wasn’t answering. He looked through the living room window and saw the empty rooms within. The frozen ball of dread that weighed down his stomach prevented him from consciously acknowledging the implications right away.

He pushed himself off the porch and went to her kitchen door. Letting down the wards, he entered, checking the refrigerator and pantry, the cupboards and closets. All empty. She was gone.

He went through the house to the front door, going to the swing on the front porch. Sitting down heavily, he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Where would she have gone from here? Her furniture was gone; he really didn’t think Malfoy would have bothered to take it with him if he had her again. And even Malfoy wouldn’t have been able to get through these wards, he was sure. So where was she?

“She’s gone, dearie.”

He looked up, searching for the voice. Across the yard, the neighbor was leaning over the fence, a look of compassion on her tired face. It was the woman they’d questioned when they’d first learned of Dariah’s disappearance.

“Where did she go?”

“London. She took a flat there. I don’t know where, though. She said something about Owling me later.”

“You haven’t heard from her since?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. She’ll be in touch, I think. She must be busy settling into her new place. Give it a few weeks. I’m sure she’ll Owl you.” She went back to her laundry, leaving him to his depressing thoughts. He knew Dariah wouldn’t Owl him; he hadn’t had a chance to make amends before she’d left. She no doubt still believed he was avoiding her.

He left the house, heading back to Hogwarts. There was really no place else to go, and he began mentally composing the message he’d send her. Thankfully, Owls always found their recipients, even when the sender didn’t have a clue.

* * * *

Dariah opened the window, looking suspiciously at the bird that hopped inside. She’d gotten Owl messages in the past; Marcus had introduced her to the system. But he was in Azkaban; she rather doubted he’d be allowed to communicate with the outside. Then who?

She detached the message from its leg and allowed it to drink from her coffee cup. It hooted once, as if to thank her, then flew out the window without waiting to see if she had a response.

She looked at the scrawled handwriting on the envelope. She’d never had occasion to see any of the handwriting of the wizards she’d met lately. But it didn’t really matter who it might be from. There was no one in the Wizarding world she cared to talk to right now. She was trying to forget that part of her life.

She stared at the envelope, as if waiting for it to come to life and tell her its secrets, saving her from making a decision whether or not to open it. She took a deep breath, and standing quickly, she snatched the offending envelope from the table and walked purposefully over to the stove.

Lifting the burner, she put the envelope with its message in place. Before she could change her mind, she lit the gas, watching this last connection to a magical world disappear.

* * * *

Lupin waved to catch Severus’ eye from across the castle, but with the students milling around, Severus didn’t notice. He watched as the Potions Master cut away from the traffic in the hallway to climb the steps leading to the Owlery. He hoped it was Dariah whom Severus was communicating with. It was the reason he was here, looking for him. He wanted to know what Dariah was doing these days.

She’d never opened up about her stay at the Malfoy Mansion. He’d hoped that sometime during the night, when he’d held her trembling in his arms, she would have talked about it. She hadn’t, and now he wished he’d had the skill to draw her out. She’d been so evasive about her physical health, never coming right out and saying she was okay. It bothered Lupin like a sore tooth.

By the time he’d walked across to the corridor near the Owlery, Snape was coming back down the steps. Even standing directly in front of him, Lupin had to call his name before the other man noticed him.

“I was hoping you could tell me news of Dariah,” he said, worried because it wasn’t like Snape not to be alert to everything and everyone around him. Alertness was, for Snape especially, essential to his survival.

“I haven’t seen her since the last time I looked through my landscape,” he answered. He looked directly at Lupin for the first time. “I don’t know where she is.” Lupin thought he saw something flicker in the dark eyes, but he may have been reading too much into it. He wasn’t clear on how Snape felt about her anymore. Dumbledore didn’t seem as garrulous as usual, so he got no information from that quarter.

“I thought maybe you’d just sent her an Owl,” he said. Would Snape be keeping her whereabouts a secret for some reason?

“The owls always find the addressee,” he pointed out. “This is the second time I’ve Owled her; she didn’t answer the first one.”

“Maybe she doesn’t understand how we use owls.”

Snape frowned, saying quietly, “I wish I could believe it was just that. But reality forces me to admit that she has nothing to say to me.”

He did care, Lupin saw. “Why don’t you just go to her? I’ll bet she doesn’t slam the door in your face.”

“I told you, I don’t know where she is.” Snape’s voice was now laced in acid. “I don’t even know if she’s recovered from her Malfoy experience. Or even what happened.”

“She never told any of us what happened.”

“So you’ve seen her since her release?”

“I took her home that night. She was shaken up, but wouldn’t speak of it. She was evasive, as if she didn’t want to answer my questions, but didn’t want me to know she wasn’t answering. It struck me as odd, because I’d gotten the impression she was much more direct than that.”

“Did you try asking in different ways? Asking more than once?”

“Severus, I was there all night. I kept coming back to it, but I was afraid of making her turn away completely.”

“What do you mean, you were there all night? Even while she slept?”

Lupin realized he was treading some very dangerous waters here. Snape seemed to forget Lupin’s sexual preferences; or maybe he knew more than Lupin gave him credit for. After all, hadn’t Lupin been tempted? Didn’t he drool over that picture of Dariah in her bathing suit? And while he’d held her, hadn’t there been a stirring of something in him?

“Relax, Severus. She needed a pair of arms around her, anchoring her. Nothing improper happened. And she hadn’t slept.”

Snape shook his head, looking down at the floor. “It should have been me there with her. Dumbledore asked me to go, but I was afraid to face her after the way I’d treated her. I just didn’t have the courage.”

Seeing Snape this way, hearing his admission of cowardice...it was too much. Lupin felt a sinking sensation deep within him. That the wizard made of granite could be afraid of anything was something Lupin didn’t want to think about. How would he function? There were ex-followers of Voldemort out there, just waiting for a chance to raise hell, and if one of the strongest wizards in the Order was only half-aware, what would become of the rest of them?

Lupin looked at his hero, wishing he could say the words that would put everything back in balance again. He dimly registered the idea that Snape was confiding in him at all; telling him of the very feelings in his heart. This was something he’d put to the back of his mind for later analysis. For now, he concentrated on getting Snape to snap out of this deep funk he’d gotten into.

Attempt to contact Dariah by Floo? No; who knew if she had a fireplace? She wouldn’t be hooked up to the Floo Network anyway.

Snape had already tried Owling her. No answer. It was just too bad that Dariah hadn’t... _Wait a minute,_ Lupin thought. _Of course!_

“Severus, why don’t you put a tracer on the Owl who’d just delivered your message to her?”

Snape looked at him uncomprehendingly. “A tracer?”

“Yes. Think! The owls always know where to find the letter recipient, right? When it comes back, simply trace where it’s been. Don’t tell me you didn’t know you could do that!”

Snape hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I must have been inhaling some noxious fumes, lately. It never occurred to me.” He turned and almost ran up the steps to the Owlery, Lupin close on his heels. He hoped Snape knew the charms to use. He sure as hell didn’t.

As they stood, looking out the window to wait for the owl, Lupin looked at the sky. Evening was on the horizon. He turned to Snape, remembering one of the reasons he’d come here today. “By the way, I came for the Wolfsbane. You’ve been kind of preoccupied lately, so I thought I’d save you the trip out to Grimmauld Place.”

Snape turned to look at him, and seeing the expression on the dark-haired wizard’s face, Lupin knew there was no potion. Lupin almost lost his lunch when he realized that he had no more than one hour in which to take the first dose of the potion. If it wasn’t taken by then, the rest of the doses would have no effect, and he’d become fully a werewolf in two nights’ time with the approach of the full moon.

Snape was already heading out the door, apologizing on the way. “We can waste no more time.”

Lupin followed to his dungeon lab, grabbing a cauldron and knife as Snape got some ingredients from the stockroom. Lighting a fire under the cauldron, Lupin began chopping up what Snape tossed his way. “Careful,” Snape warned. “If it’s not done properly, it will do no good anyway.”

“Don’t worry.”

They concentrated on the work to be done. The potion took nearly an hour to brew, and Lupin would have to take the first dose while it was still hot. He’d mistakenly done that once before, hoping never to make that mistake again. It tasted bad enough cool; heat brought out its flavors a hundredfold.

By the time they’d finished, and Lupin swallowed the first dose of the month, an hour and seven minutes had passed. “How will I know if this took?” he asked fearfully.

“We won’t know until the full moon is upon us,” Snape answered apologetically. “Take all the doses, on the chance we were in time. On the evening of the full moon, you’ll have to come here. Your usual cell will be ready for you.”

Lupin started clearing away the supplies. Snape looked down at his fingers drumming on the countertop. He caught Lupin’s eye. “I’m sorry about forgetting. There’s no excuse.”

“Severus, don’t beat yourself up over it. I knew you had your mind on...other things. I don’t expect my problems to become yours, any more than they already are. I should have come by yesterday. After all, you normally deliver the potion the day before I’m to start taking it. I should have realized you’d forgotten. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

“A few months ago,” Snape said softly, “you would have believed I’d ‘forgotten’ on purpose.”

“A few months ago,” Lupin answered, “I didn’t know you as well as I think I do now.”

Snape acknowledged this with a slight nod.

Lupin put away the clean cauldron and turned back to Snape. “I’ll bet your owl has returned by now. Let’s go find Dariah.”


	14. By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Chapter Fourteen  
By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Lupin checked the parchment on his lap once again. He was familiar with London’s underground system, but not so much that he wasn’t afraid of making a costly mistake. It seemed all the forces of nature were working against their finding Dariah; by the time they’d finished making Lupin’s potion, someone else had used the owl they’d been waiting for, and the tracer charm had revealed only the last route the owl had taken.

Severus had immediately scrawled a quick note, but before they could attach it to an owl, all hell had broken loose in the castle. Martin Morturi, a third-year Slytherin who was determined to make a name for himself in Transfiguration, had tried his less-than-expert skills on one uncooperative Peeves. As half of Peeves transfigured into a screaming banshee, the other half became a large church bell. The commotion had upset all the students; curfews were violated while the staff tried to maintain order. Peeves had made laps all around the castle, trying in vain to escape the horrible din he was making. It had turned into a comedy of errors, and by the time things were set right, it had been too late to send an owl to Dariah.

They’d tried to schedule the next attempt to a period when both Lupin and Snape were free long enough to prevent anyone else from using the same owl before they could charm its secrets from it. Consequently, it was only this afternoon they’d been successful.

After Severus had charmed the perturbed owl to get an image of a birds-eye-view of its route, Lupin had converted the image to a map. One more stop, then they’d be there. He looked at Severus sitting beside him. He was staring out the window, but clearly his mind was elsewhere. Lupin knew this would be an awkward meeting, to say the least.

He had slightly less than an hour to get Severus to Dariah’s house, make sure she let him inside, then return to Hogwarts to the dungeon cell where he’d be isolated from innocent people if the potion failed. His chances of escaping the metamorphosis was fair; he’d only been a few minutes late in taking the first dose. But it didn’t pay to take the chance.

Severus had wanted Lupin to stay behind, close to the castle. But Lupin had insisted, and due to Severus’ distraught emotions, it had been easy to wear him down. Not only was he afraid of what Dariah’s reaction would be when she saw Severus on her doorstep, but he couldn’t risk Severus getting lost in London, what with him being the only one around who could brew the Wolfsbane. Severus seemed only to react to anything around him if prodded.

It shouldn’t be a problem, he rationalized to himself. Twenty more minutes to get there, a few minutes of persuading her to open her door, then he’d take his leave and Apparate back to the castle. Once there, it would be easy for Severus to Apparate back to Hogwarts. It was getting there, in unknown territory, that was tricky. Hence the Muggle method of travel.

He punched Severus’ arm to get his attention. This was their stop. He pushed his way up the stairs to the street outside, checking to make sure Severus was still behind him. Studying the map once again, he looked off to the left and waved for Severus to follow him. Two more blocks.

“Number one ninety-three,” he said triumphantly. “That’s her.” He looked expectantly at Severus, who placed one foot on the bottom step of the stoop, but seemed disinclined to go any further. Lupin stole a look at the time. He couldn’t afford much more delay.

Severus turned to him. “She won’t be happy to see me.”

Lupin’s heart ached at the sound of his voice. He never had children, most likely never would, but he somehow knew this was how a parent must feel the first time one had to send his child out into the world. With a paternal sadness and concern in his heart, he put his hand on Severus’ shoulder, encouraging him to follow him up the stairs. He knocked on the door, quickly grabbing Severus’ arm to prevent him from slipping away.

He felt the slightest vibration of footsteps nearing the door. As it opened, he pasted a big smile on his face. “Well, hello, Dariah!”

Dariah was obviously in shock. Of all the people in the world who might materialize on her doorstep, she clearly hadn’t expected Severus or Remus. She hadn’t read the messages, as Severus had suspected. She seemed to become aware of the awkward silence, and pulled open the door to wave them inside. Gesturing for them to be seated, she almost ran into the kitchen. She returned a minute later with a bottle of rum and three glasses. He was glad; they could all use a drink, apparently.

“We really didn’t want to barge in on you unannounced,” Remus said. “But we had no other way to contact you. You left without a word, and we’ve all been worried.”

“Worried about what? Is there something else wrong?”

“Not at Hogwarts. I meant we were worried about you. You never really gave us a chance to help you. And when you left so suddenly, we didn’t know what to think. We didn’t know if you left because you wanted to, or because you were afraid. I hope you aren’t afraid of us.”

“It was time for a change, that’s all.”

“I noticed you closed up shop,” Remus said. “Have you opened another one?”

“No. I’m working as a veterinarian’s assistant now.”

“A veterinarian? What’s that?”

“Caretaker of animals.”

Remus smiled, looking over at Severus, who hadn’t spoken a word yet. “Sort of a Muggle-type Hagrid?” No response from Severus. “So, a new career, a new life?”

“It’s not really new for me,” she said. “I used to be a VA before I got tired of working for other people. But now I’m tired of self-employment. I asked for my old job back, and lucked out. They had an opening.”

He looked over at the still-silent Severus, wondering if he was planning on talking to her at all. Remus asked if he could use her facilities, and she pointed down the hallway to show him the way. He was getting the impression that he was inhibiting Severus. He wouldn’t say anything with Remus there.

He splashed cool water on his face, drying it off on the towel next to the sink. Looking in the mirror, he saw the redness in his eyes. The minor discomforts he’d been feeling earlier took on a whole new meaning. He’d thought he had more time! He had to Disapparate; he had to leave right now.

He headed for the door, planning to get out of the bathroom, where there wasn’t enough room to Disapparate. As his hand reached for the doorknob, he doubled up, pain taking his breath away. He growled low in his throat, willing himself to move.

* * * *

“I’m so sorry for...for everything,” Severus said. “I never even gave you the benefit of the doubt. There was no reason to think the things I did. I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I could have prevented...if I had just stopped to think...”

“It’s not your fault, Severus,” she said. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have stopped it. Not any of it. And you did warn me about associating with Marcus. I just didn’t listen. And I have to admit, I still consider Marcus my friend. I don’t blame him for what happened either.”

He put his glass down on the end table, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He rubbed at his temples with one hand, covering his eyes. He felt the sofa shift, and he looked up, startled. She was sitting beside him.

She reached up and moved his hair away from where it had fallen across his eyes. He pressed her hand against his lips, kissing her palm, his eyes shut tight in anguish. She brought her other hand to his neck, urging him closer to her. She leaned into him, kissing his neck, running her fingers through his hair.

Oh, gods, how he’d missed her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the spicy scent of her shampoo. He felt her arms around him and his lips sought out hers. How could he have forgotten how soft, how sweet her lips were? How could he have stayed away from her for so long?

She was teasing his lips with her tongue, and he deepened the kiss, tasting her. As he felt her fingers undoing the buttons on his chest, he became aware of the tightness in his trousers. He leaned back, not wanting her to think it was only the physical relationship he’d missed. But she followed him, never releasing her hold on him. She kissed her way down his neck, lingering at the base of his throat, remembering how to get the responses she sought. She half-covered his reclining body with hers, pushing her hip into his hardness, sighing at his answering moan.

He moved his hands all over her, shaping her flesh to his hands, smoothing over her soft skin wherever material didn’t cover it. He felt her hand cupping him, rubbing, her voice murmuring in his ear, “I thought you hated me; I was so afraid to read those letters. I was afraid of what might be in them.”

“Impossible,” he moaned. “I was only trying to apologize and ask you to see me. I...oh, gods, Dariah, yes...”

He was beyond coherent thought, so lost in what she was doing to him that he didn’t hear the growling right away. His blood froze. He heard it finally, at the same time seeing a shadow pass before the light coming in from the kitchen.

He pushed Dariah away from him, grappling for his wand. He sent a Stupefy at the werewolf, noting that it only knocked it back a few steps. Dariah was pulling him away, but now the beast had entered the living room, cutting them off from the front door.

* * * *

Dariah had known Remus was a werewolf; she’d known it was a full moon tonight. She only now connected the two, and wondered why this was happening. Wasn’t there a way to control what was happening? How had they handled it previously?

She pulled at Severus until she managed to get him into the closet off the living room. “Hold the door shut!” She heard him mutter some nonsensical words and heard wards going up. She wondered if that would hold off the werewolf; she couldn’t think of it as Remus. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him; not like this.

She reached up to the shelf, searching for the kit she’d put there only last week, cursing when she couldn’t find it. “Lumos!” Severus’ voice was accompanied by a bright light in this closet where there was no light bulb. Of course! She’d forgotten she was in here with a wizard.

She found the kit, almost ripping it open in her haste. She could hear the sounds of her flat being ripped apart. She took out the gun and loaded a cartridge into it. Grabbing the other two cartridges and putting them carefully in her pocket, she motioned for Severus to open the door. He hesitated, and she explained. “It’s a tranquilizer gun,” she said. “These cartridges carry enough tranquilizer to knock out a horse. It might give us enough time to Disapparate him, at least.”

He nodded. “Nox.” He let down the wards and cautiously opened the door, just a crack. The lights were still on in the living room. One of the lamps was still on, anyway. The other lamp was in pieces on the floor.

As Severus moved quickly out into the room, ducking to the left, she went to the right, taking aim. The first shot caught the werewolf just under the sternum. It roared, more likely in anger, rather than in pain. Her hands began shaking as she loaded the second cartridge. _It’s not Remus, it’s something else. Remus will be fine._ She kept repeating this silently as she forced herself to calm down and take aim.

The beast took a few steps nearer to them; she fired the second shot into its thigh. It faltered, falling against the coffee table and breaking it. It crawled a couple more steps before collapsing to the floor. Severus quickly went to it, wand in hand. He felt its neck, and relaxed. “How long will this last?”

“Judging by his size, I’d say about twenty minutes. What do we do now?”

“I have to Disapparate the two of us back to the Forbidden Forest. I can get him into the castle, where we keep a cell just in case something like this happens.”

“What if you don’t make it back in time?”

He looked at her, not answering. The top three buttons of his coat and shirt were undone; a reminder of what they’d been doing before Remus’ change. She found herself oddly excited by this. _Probably the adrenalin rush,_ she thought. She approached the two of them, kneeling down next to the unconscious werewolf.

“Will you come back?” she asked.

“As soon as I can,” he answered. “And as often as I can. All right?”

She nodded, still shaken. He took hold of the werewolf’s arm, aiming his wand with his other hand. She leaned over the beast, kissing Severus, wondering how long it would be until she could see him again. Their lips separating, she watched as he faded from her view.

There was a nauseating, swirling pull on her, and her hands clenched around whatever it was she was holding. She registered the feel of rough fur against her palms, and as it was the only thing anchoring her to reality, she fought to hold on. The sight of her demolished living room vanished from her view, and she remembered too late what caused this feeling.

What had she done?

* * * *

Severus cursed roundly when he realized Dariah had Disapparated with them. _What was she thinking of?_ He dropped his hold on Lupin and took her shoulders in his hands. “You’re in danger!” he spat. “You shouldn’t have come!”

“It wasn’t intentional! What do I know about Disapparating!”

He let go of her, pulling his fingers through his hair in agitation. This was not a good time for throwing blame around. He didn’t know how long he had to get Lupin to his cell in the dungeons. He used a spell to lift the werewolf about four feet from the ground, and began to propel him to the castle. He looked back to make sure Dariah was following. She seemed subdued, and he made a mental note to apologize profusely once this crisis had been taken care of.

He saw the huge shadow of Hagrid against his hut, and called out to him. As the half-giant loomed closer, taking in the situation quickly, Severus sent him to the castle ahead of them to alert Dumbledore to the situation. Hagrid hurried off, and Severus tried to quicken his pace. Pushing Lupin along was slow work.

They only had about twenty meters before they reached the castle when Lupin began to stir. Too quickly for Severus to react, the beast had stumbled down to the ground, rising quickly and leaping toward Dariah. He saw him swing a clawed forepaw at her, and his Stupefy was joined by other voices. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sprout had emerged from the castle to assist.

The werewolf was down. Leaving the rest to see to him, he ran to where Dariah lay on the grass, unmoving. His heart in his throat, he fell to her side, noting the blood-covered shirt. He touched her neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, but feeble. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the castle to the hospital wing. He fought to keep calm, trying not to dwell upon the amount of blood she’d lost, not thinking about the internal damage she might have suffered.

As he entered the ward, calling out for Poppy, he wondered, if--no... _when,_ he told himself-- _when_ she recovered from this latest injury, if she would run away from him again. It seemed whenever she got within shouting distance of him, she’d been hurt.

He paced while Poppy ran the first scan on her, and protested loudly when she pushed him out the door. As he pulled out his wand, prepared to blow the door away, Albus grabbed his arm and gently led him away, down to the dungeons.

“He’s in the cell, all wards in place. He’s very agitated, so I don’t think we need bother him right now.”

“He’ll settle down a little, after the moon shifts somewhat,” Severus said, calming. “He’ll be okay in the morning. But he took all doses, albeit the first was late. It won’t be as bad as in times past, at least.”

“As you are not exactly impartial to Miss Moreland,” Albus said. “I want you to stay away from the hospital wing tonight. I’ll see what’s going on, and let you know immediately. I’m sure that when Poppy finishes with Dariah, we can let you in to see her; by then, most of your worries should be over.”

Severus rubbed a hand down his face, ashamed at his lack of control. Albus waved away his apology. “I know what you’re feeling, Severus. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“She lost a lot of blood, Albus.”

“So I see,” he said, looking pointedly at Severus’ robes. “And Poppy will replenish it. Poppy will be able to put it all right; you know that.”

He nodded, fatigue suddenly settling over him like a blanket. Albus pointed him to his rooms, pushing him inside and pouring them both a drink of whiskey from Severus’ admirable stock. He managed to keep the younger wizard talking about unimportant things until, four whiskeys later, the voice started sounding hoarse, and the eyes became heavy.

Albus prodded Severus toward his bed, pushing him down onto it, the exhausted man not up to protesting. Albus pulled off the boots, removed the blood-soaked robe and pulled the quilt over the already-sleeping man. He left the rooms, heading up to the hospital wing to check on the woman who was probably the only woman who could cause Severus to lose reason and control so effectively.


	15. Healing

Chapter Fifteen  
Healing

Dariah leaned her forehead against the window, looking down at the grounds of Hogwarts. She wasn’t really seeing it; her vision was turned inward. She no longer felt the pull of newly-healed tissue over her ribcage, wasn’t aware of the slight headache that had been with her since her Disapparation experience. What filled her thoughts was the disturbing memory she’d begun to feel would never leave her. That horrible feeling she had upon waking this morning, in another unfamiliar room, with that same aroma she still couldn’t identify.

She’d first smelled it when she had come to in the Malfoy mansion. As if some distance away someone was burning something and only a small amount of it wafted within her olfactory range. It had a heavy base, like the smell of damp wood, but also a hint of something else, something elusive. It had come and gone so quickly she couldn’t focus on it long enough to guess what it might be.

Since it was in her room at Lucius’ home, and also here in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, she surmised that Lucius had been drugging her with subtle fumes of a potion that was also in use here for medicinal purposes. What was it? Madam Pomfrey was disinclined to answer Dariah’s questions about her potions, so she was no nearer to solving the mystery than she’d been before asking. What doctor or nurse would refuse to answer a patient’s question about that patient’s medical care?

She hoped she’d see Severus soon. She was waiting for the results of her final medi-scan from Madam Pomfrey before she could be released. She planned to find Severus immediately afterward.

Sighing with impatience, she turned away from the window, gasping at the sight of Severus standing directly behind her. She threw herself into his arms, so happy to see a friendly face that she hadn’t noticed the strained look on his face. She felt his arms tighten convulsively around her, and he picked her up slightly, pulling her against his body. She kissed his neck, teasingly licking that special spot just below his Adam’s Apple. Smiling at his shudder, she lifted her lips to his. He set her back on her feet, pushing her away just far enough to look at her.

“Am I to assume from your warm greeting that you’re feeling better?”

“Compared to last night? Of course I am.” He seemed relieved, and it occurred to her that he must have been a lot more worried than the situation warranted. Did he think she was some fragile flower that needed to be kept in a glass case somewhere? She sat on the bed, pulling him to sit down beside her.

“Albus told me of your injuries,” he said. “I trust Madam Pomfrey has taken good care of you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think she likes it that she’s had to treat a Muggle. She keeps trying to give me the evil eye.”

He laughed out loud. “I would hazard a guess that you’re not the easiest patient she’s had to contend with. I’d also go so far as to say the only treatment she was able to administer to you, she did while you were still unconscious.”

She smiled in agreement. “Do you smell that?” It was more subtle than it was upon her waking, but by concentrating, she could still detect the slight odor of the wood and whatever else it was.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he said. “There are too many different scents in here for me to know which one you mean.”

“It smells like wet lumber, with something else that I can’t place.”

“Wet lumber? That normally is associated with draughts that tranquilize. She may have given you a sedative, to keep you more or less still while your skin was knitting back together again. Albus told me that your wounds were deep.”

“A tranquilizer...” Lucius would want her tranquilized, she thought. But what was that other smell? She looked at Severus, knowing if anyone could answer her questions about potions, it would be him. “What scent is associated with draughts that remove memories?” It was a long shot, but worth a try. She had to start somewhere.

“Why would she want to remove any of your memories? She wouldn’t have without the headmaster’s consent, at any rate.”

“It’s about something else,” she said, not really wanting him to pursue it.

Severus shifted to face her squarely. “Had Malfoy given you any potions while you were there?”

She suddenly felt uncomfortable. This isn’t what she wanted to talk about.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment, thankfully, to come out of her office, smiling when she saw Severus. “Are you here to escort my patient out? I daresay, it can’t be too soon for her; she’s been wearing out the floor, pacing back and forth.”

“So, she’s healed and free to go?”

“Absolutely.”

Severus led the mediwitch back to her office, where they had a discussion Dariah couldn’t hear. Was it about her? Something they felt she shouldn’t know? He returned to her side and they left the hospital ward. In the corridor just outside the doors, he hesitated. “Do you want to go home, or wait here for a while?”

“I’d like to see Remus, if he’s back to normal.”

“I thought you might. He is. He’s eating his way through enough food for three men. We’d do better to wait in my rooms; he said he’d stop by after breakfast.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. Once there, she accepted a cup of tea and settled herself on his sofa. “So, what happened last night? It seemed the werewolf caught you by surprise.”

“Yes, the full moon’s approach slipped my mind entirely. I should never have allowed him to come with me to London. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, and it’s the reason you’ve had the troubles you’ve had.”

“Severus, we’ve been over this. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

From the look in his eyes, she knew her words were useless. He’d never stop blaming himself; he’d never forgive himself. She smoothed her finger over the crease in his forehead, wishing she could take his worries away from him. He caught her fingers in his, pulling them to his lips. They both started slightly at the knock on the door. Remus.

Severus got up to let him in, and Dariah pushed more deeply into the corner of the sofa and tucked her legs under her.

Remus came into the room, sitting in the chair next to the sofa, taking one of her hands in both of his. “Dariah, I’m so sorry. If there was any way I could have prevented it...as a matter of fact, I should never have come to your house yesterday; it was by far one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.”

Their guilt was exhausting her. She leaned forward, putting her most serious expression on her face. “Remus, I plan to have you assassinated for what you’ve done to me. I will place a Muggle hex on you so that you and all generations of Lupins after you will curse the day you were born.”

It took a full heartbeat, but then he was laughing, the tension in the room dissipating at once. He kissed her hand, and releasing it, turned to Severus, who’d been watching the exchange with a worried look on his face. His face cleared and he visibly relaxed, moving to sit on the sofa and handing Remus a cup of tea.

“So, you’re all healed now?” Remus looked into her eyes, and she knew she couldn’t look away or he’d never believe her.

“Yep. Your Madam Pomfrey can work miracles.”

“It’s Severus’ potions that are responsible for that.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow at that. “Even the best potions must be administered correctly. She’s a well-trained and highly experienced mediwitch.”

“Agreed.”

The two men got into a discussion about what was required for an apprenticeship in the medical field, and Dariah felt her eyes getting heavy. As the discussion turned from medicine to education and training in general, she allowed her head to sink back against the cushion, closing her eyes and letting the sound of their voices lull her into a restful nap, catching up on all the sleep she’d lost the last couple of weeks.

* * * *

Remus nodded his head toward Dariah. Severus looked, surprised to see her asleep, her eyes moving quickly back and forth under her eyelids, indicating that she was dreaming. He cocked an eyebrow at Remus. “Clearly, her rest last night was not quite as peaceful as she allowed me to believe. Remus, would you turn down the quilt from the bed? I think we can do better than this sofa.”

He picked her up, following Remus into his bedroom. Laying her down on his sheets, he removed her shoes and covered her with the quilt. They left her to her dreams and returned to the sitting room. Severus picked up the tray with the tea things on it, returning it to the kitchenette. Lupin followed, leaning against the counter as Severus sat down at the table.

Remus pushed the door closed with his outstretched leg, and Severus wondered what it was he wanted to talk about that Dariah shouldn’t overhear.

“Has she spoken at all about Malfoy?”

“No. But she did ask some questions about potions. She’s trying to identify something by its scent, so I have to assume she doesn’t know what he used. I don’t even know if he’d given it to her to drink, or if he used fumes, or if it was a potion that diffuses through the skin.”

“If you knew how it was administered, you’d then have a better guess as to what he used?”

“Well, let’s just say I’d be closer to an educated guess. She mentioned wet lumber, which would mean a tranquilizer. But that’s only one of the components. The other smell she’s trying to identify is something foreign to her, apparently. But that’s the very component I’d need to know about in order to figure out what was used. Once we know what was used, we can probably figure out what his motives were, and how much damage he caused.”

“Severus, I hate to rake over old wounds, but keep in mind that this is to help Dariah. You know Malfoy; you know what he’s done in the past. What might he have wanted with Dariah? She’s not part of the information network; we know that. Incidentally, Albus called a meeting tonight of the Order. Harry’s going to be there, so I think they may have tracked down the security leak at the Ministry.”

Severus nodded to acknowledge the words. He was thinking about Malfoy’s past history with women, especially the wretched Muggle women who hadn’t a clue what was happening to them. “Malfoy is a sadistic bastard who seems only to find sexual gratification by totally dominating his women. His relations with Narcissa are practically non-existent. He seeks his pleasures outside his home regularly.”

Remus blanched. “I guess I always suspected that, but didn’t want to think Dariah would be his next victim.”

“Nor did I,” Severus said quietly. “She asked me what a memory-erasing draught would smell like. I fear that even she doesn’t remember all of what happened.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Remus suggested. “Isn’t it?”

“She won’t heal; she won’t be able to come to terms with it unless she faces it. Only then will she be able to put it behind her. If she never remembers, it will come back to haunt her again and again.”

“Maybe it’s too soon for her to deal with it.”

“The Muggles have an expression, something about if you’re thrown from your horse, you get right back into the saddle before you lose your nerve. I think the longer she represses it, the harder it will be for her to finally face it.”

“Do you know how to help her, if it’s her memory that’s gone?”

“Hypnosis.”

“I don’t really know how that works.”

“I address her subconscious directly. The subconscious never forgets, no matter what potions have been used.”

“You? You’d hypnotize her yourself?”

“It takes a great deal of trust for someone to relax to the point where the hypnotic trance is deep enough for it to do any good. That means either you or me. And, by your own admission, you don’t know much about it.”

“True. Are you actually planning to do this then?”

“Not just yet. I don’t even know if she _has_ repressed her memory. Or if Lucius has. I have to get her to talk to me, first. Albus has graciously allowed me to pawn off my school responsibilities to the others today, in the hopes that she’ll talk to me. I’ll try when she wakes up.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll take my leave now. Who knows how long she’ll sleep? I’m going home to catch up on mine. I’ll be back for the meeting, and then I’ll be staying here again tonight. Just in case I need that cell.”

Severus saw him out the door, then turned to enter his bedroom. He stood by the side of the bed, looking down at Dariah. Asleep, she looked peaceful. Young. Happy. He couldn’t resist; he kicked off his boots and climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms protectively around her. He held her against him, breathing in the scent of her, loving the way she snuggled closer, so trusting of him while she slept.

* * * *

Dariah stretched her legs, basking in the cozy warmth around her. She realized the body next to her was one she’d become so familiar with, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was looking back at her, a small smile on his face. She smiled back and sat up.

“Well rested now?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, only slightly apologetic. “I must really have been tired.”

“I’m not surprised, and you have nothing to apologize for. But I’m glad you’re awake now. We have something important to discuss.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to talk to you about what happened in the Malfoy mansion.”

She shut her eyes, trying to remove herself from this conversation. His voice told her it didn’t work. “I hate to push this,” he was saying, “but for your own sake, we have to get through this. It’s the only way you’ll be able to heal.”

“What makes you think there’s anything more to heal?”

“Isn’t there?”

She looked down at her hands, resting on the counterpane of the quilt. “I really don’t remember everything,” she said. “I know there are blank spaces, but all I know about them is that I was frightened and depressed. More depressed than I’d ever been in my life, and that frightened me, too. I felt like I’d never snap out of it; never be happy again.”

“If you will allow me to hypnotize you, those blank spaces might be filled in. Do you know what hypnosis is?”

“Yes.”

“Will you allow me to do this?”

She looked at him, as he waited silently and patiently for her answer. She’d been hypnotized before; one of her oldest friends in the Muggle world was a psychiatrist, and he’d used this method often in his practice. But with her, it had been just for kicks, simply because she enjoyed the feeling of floating and the almost instant relaxation that had come over her during those times. What Severus was talking about wouldn’t be the same; there were memories she wasn’t ready to face. She didn’t even like facing what she did remember. What she’d blocked out could only be worse.

But it was Severus. If there were anyone she could trust, it was him. If she was devastated by her memories, his arms would be there for her.

“I guess so,” she said, finally. It wasn’t the firm agreement she knew he’d hoped for, but it was the best she could do. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d give it a try. She knew that as long as there were holes in her memory, she’d never be able to stop thinking about them. “When do you want to try it?”

“Now. You’re still relaxed from sleep, so it might be easier now than later. And I promise,” he added, taking her chin in his hand, “that I will not push you too hard. If you become unduly agitated, we’ll stop. We’ll take this slowly.”

He urged her lie down again, gently running his fingers through the hair bordering her face, and the sensation relaxed her. He began speaking to her, his voice low, his words removing all her reservations. As she felt herself drifting down from the clouds, his voice carried her. That velvet voice instructed her in deep relaxation, and she complied willingly.

“Tell me about the scent you noticed. Wet lumber and what else?”

“I don’t know what else. It was a very subtle fragrance.”

“Floral? Spicy? Perhaps something herbal?” Any of these would be along the same lines as the tranquilizing ingredients. Nothing to worry about.

“I don’t know.”

“When did you first notice this scent?”

“When I first woke up there. It only lasted a moment or two, I think. It might have lingered longer, but I didn’t notice it.”

“Were there other times you noticed it?”

“Yes. Several times while I was there. Always when I woke up.”

He was quiet, and so she continued drifting lazily, not caring about the mysterious aroma anymore.

* * * *

Severus digested this information carefully. As the aroma had been there upon her awakening, he must find out what had happened just before she woke. Had she been actually sleeping, or, as he feared, were those times the blank spaces she sensed? He considered all the possible potions Malfoy might have used to render her senseless. Most used a combination of spells and tranquilizing potions.

But what would he have used that would need an ingredient that provided such an elusive aroma? Love potions tended to give off an herbal scent. She hadn’t mentioned that. That could be good news, considering what Malfoy was capable of. If Malfoy was of the belief that Dariah could provide him with sensitive Ministry information, he might try truth serums, such as Veritaserum. But those potions’ aromas were offensive, and not something Dariah would have missed.

Potions that produced amnesia usually had floral scents, as almost all of them needed dandelions and gladwillows to be effective. Dariah hadn’t noticed any floral aromas.

So, where did that leave him? What had Malfoy in mind for Dariah? The recent medi-scan Poppy had performed denied the injuries that would be consistent with rape, or any other sexual torture Malfoy had employed against his past victims. Luckily for Dariah, as Malfoy usually didn’t climax until he watched the life drain from his victims’ eyes.

He’d provided Dariah with a luxurious bedroom and a good view of the garden for her imprisonment. Nome had reported that the kitchen-elves were under strict orders to cater to her every whim, should she ever make any requests. That wasn’t Malfoy’s usual _modus operandi._ His other victims had only seen the inside of a dungeon chamber and no light. Clearly, he’d had special plans for Dariah.

“Dariah,” he murmured. She stirred, and he knew she was still focused on his voice. “Take yourself back to that bedroom, with the garden outside your window. Remember the last time you woke up there, smelling that aroma you couldn’t identify. Tell me when you’re there.”

After a brief few seconds, she was able to tell him she was back there. He noted her increased respiration, noticed the pulse in her throat beating faster. Clearly, she didn’t want to be there, but did so at his request. He felt humbled and hoped he could live up to her faith in him.

“Go backward, and stay with me while you remember what happened to you before you woke. This time you will remember, and tell me what happened.”

He brushed away the tear drop that fell away from her eye. She didn’t appear frightened, but her mood had noticeably changed. He felt the oppression of a heaviness in the room, and knew it was her depression. He knew he’d struck pay dirt, but it gave him no satisfaction to have done so.

“I was sitting in the chair by the bureau,” she was saying. “Lucius was sitting in a chair, facing me. He was talking to me, holding my hand in his. He was telling me how happy I’d be if I stayed with him. He was polite, persuasive, very insistent. He kept running his hand over my arm. His eyes were...empty. His eyes were always empty.”

Severus looked more closely at her arms. Nothing there, not even something Madam Pomfrey would have missed. Was Lucius imagining a brand on her arm, a la Voldemort? Was he planning on somehow summoning her back, even after her escape?

It hit Severus then what Dariah had been talking about. The mysterious fragrance could have been gadsrowe, an extract of moss that was virtually unknown to the Muggle world. And she noticed it this morning in the hospital wing because this extract was also used to prevent infection due to animal bites. His heart thumped painfully in his chest at the implications. Gadsrowe could be used in a potion whose effects were similar to the Imperius Curse. It was a very effective brainwashing method which hadn’t been used since the Middle Ages.

Malfoy wasn’t finished with her yet. He could reclaim her at any time. And she would return...willingly.


	16. How to Live with Terror

Chapter Sixteen  
How To Live With Terror

Severus had left Hagrid with Dariah, with strict orders not to let her leave no matter what she said or did. Albus had personally given the half-giant permission to use magic to stop her if necessary. Hagrid had been briefed on what threat Lucius Malfoy might present. He would be brought up to date on Order news later.

Dariah had awoken early this afternoon, and at his insistence, she took at least some lunch. Severus had brought out a milky-white solution he’d prepared while she’d slept. It was simply gadsrowe dissolved in water, and heated to release the aroma. He’d taken the stopper off the vial and passed it under her nose, waiting to see her reaction. Her eyes had widened, and he knew even before she confirmed it that it was the fragrance she’d been trying to identify.

It would work even better for Malfoy than Severus’ own Dark Mark had worked for Voldemort. He had hesitated to tell her what purpose the potion had, not wishing to add to her woes. But in the end, he’d felt it was better she knew. As Lupin was aware of the consequences of a full moon, Dariah must be aware of what would happen at Malfoy’s summons.

And now he had to find a way to break the telepathic bond Malfoy shared with her.

He forced his concentration back to Order business. Potter had traced the leak at the Ministry. After checking and double-checking his facts, and even playing devil’s advocate to try to disprove his suspicions, he was forced to report that Percy Weasley had sold out to the other side. There was no Dark Mark on his arm; it seemed the Dark wizards that were fighting for position didn’t care to use them. Or perhaps only the late Dark Lord himself was able to activate them.

But there had been so much other evidence against Weasley. By the end of Potter’s report, there were no doubts in the room as to Weasley’s duplicity. Arthur sat with his forehead resting on his hand, his shoulders slumped. He didn’t appear surprised, and Severus knew Potter must have spoken to him earlier, out of respect and compassion. The younger Weasley had been taken by the Aurors, protesting his innocence every step of the way. Fudge had made himself scarce, not wishing anyone to remember that he’d been Weasley’s mentor since school.

Dariah’s case was now common knowledge among the Order members. Binns had plans to research his vast store of literature to see if anyone had come up with a defense against the Gadsrowe Potion, but other than that, there seemed to be little to do. She would have to be watched closely, every minute of every day. Without anyone saying so, it was understood that she’d stay with Severus. During those times he must be away from her, either Lupin or Hagrid, or even Albus himself, would stay with her.

Minerva voiced her protests about the impropriety of it all, insisting women should be Dariah’s caretakers. She was met with utter silence, effectively cutting off her words when she noticed it. Severus met her look, and his silence said more than his words could have. Gathering his words carefully, he spoke.

“Minerva, I realize you’re quite formidable with your wand; however, it’s Lucius Malfoy we’re dealing with here. In addition to that, Dariah is very much her own force of nature. Magic or not, I think Remus here will agree with me that none of the witches here are up to it.” And no one will take her away from me again. Not you, nor anyone else.

Lupin smiled wryly, rubbing his once-injured shoulder for effect. “I agree. If she decides she’s going to answer Malfoy’s summons, and she’ll have no choice but to answer it, it’s not going to be easy to stop her.”

Minerva pursed her lips, clearly at a loss as to comprehend such a violent nature in a mere Muggle woman.

The meeting began to break up, some wizards and witches lingering to discuss possible methods of thwarting Malfoy’s plans, others to offer their sympathy and support to Arthur. Severus left immediately to return to his rooms, not entirely comfortable with only Hagrid there to protect Dariah.

He need not have worried, however; Dariah and Hagrid were engaged in conversation when he entered, punctuated with carefree laughter. He smiled, slightly envious that it had been Hagrid, not he, who had caused her to laugh once again. He wondered if together, they’d ever laugh again.

* * * *

Dariah was enjoying Hagrid’s company, but she was glad to see Severus return. He was all she could think about while half her mind was engaged in conversation with Hagrid. Hagrid was a fascinating fellow, but what she really wanted was the kind of company only Severus could provide.

Taking his leave, Hagrid stooped to get out the door, and she all but pounced on the startled wizard for whom she’d been waiting.

* * * *

Instantly hard, Severus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her so close he was almost behind her. His breath panted into her ear as she rubbed against him with her hip. He felt her hands on his bared chest, wondering how she’d managed so quickly. He really must stop wearing all those buttons.

She pressed her body against his as she lowered herself in front of him. Again, her nimble fingers worked at his buttons and he locked his knees to prevent falling down as her hands stroked him. She was a woman on a mission, and he looked at his bedroom door. Forget it; they’d never make it that far.

He moaned as she tasted him, and taking her by her arms, pulled her up. He’d wanted her for so long, and he’d be damned if he’d allow it to be over in ten seconds. He sat on the sofa, pulling her onto his lap. Her eyes were almost black in her passion; her lips were open and she was breathing heavily.

Was it possible for anyone, let alone this woman, to feel that way about him? Or was he just about to wake up?

He charmed away her clothes; he’d never be as good with buttons as she. He covered her breasts with his hands, gently massaging them, another jolt of pleasure hitting him as she closed her eyes and moaned. He teased her hard nipples, and she opened her eyes, looking into his as she grabbed him and smoothed her thumb over the wetness at the head of his cock.

His fingers sought out her feminine secrets; he counted backwards from a hundred to calm himself when he found her dripping. He’d gotten as far as ninety-six when he saw the feral look in her eyes. He gasped, holding her hips as she lowered herself onto him. A low rumble came from his chest as her heat enveloped him, her tightness holding him captive.

“Severus!” Her sudden climax seemed to take her by surprise, and he used all his will to control his own, not wanting it just yet. It was damned near impossible as he felt her tighten and flex all around him, her nails leaving their marks on his shoulders, her moans and gasps in his ear.

He concentrated, waiting for her to recover slightly. When things were back within his control, he began thrusting upward into her, feeling her tighten around him again. She began using her muscles to work with him, rocking her hips and moving her hot hands all over his chest. She leaned forward and licked at his male nipples, and when he began groaning almost non-stop, she began sucking at them. It was more than he could take, and he felt his balls pull up; he gave up control of his body and allowed it to thrust into her of its own accord. He could feel her getting closer; she was going to come again, and he wanted to feel it. “Yes, Dariah...ahh...now, oh god, _now..._ ”

He ground his thumb against her clit, feeling the instant response; she clamped down on him like a vise, her harsh cries like that of a wild animal. He exploded inside her, his voice blending with hers; it was all they were aware of. They hadn’t heard the wards being put up on his door.

* * * *

Lupin’s face burned, and certain parts of his anatomy throbbed at what he’d inadvertently walked in on. _Severus really should learn to ward his doors,_ he thought. He’d been as a deer caught in lights, shocked to immobility for all of about twenty seconds. Having come quickly to his senses, he quietly backed out of the door, closing it as quietly as he could. He could hear them inside, and darting a nervous look around the corridor, he placed a Silencing Charm on the rooms.

He knew that putting up the wards might be heard by the two inside, but trusted that their own turbulence would prevent them from noticing it. He bent over slightly, uncomfortable with the hardness in his trousers. As Merlin was his witness, he didn’t know who he envied more, Dariah or Severus.

He turned to a dark corner, using his wand to simulate the feeling of an icy shower, knowing that otherwise, he’d never escape detection on his way out of the castle.

* * * *

Dariah didn’t seem to mind her new imprisonment. She seemed perfectly happy to have Severus all to herself, and he wondered if his flattered ego was reading more into this than was there. It was impossible that she would give up all her freedom, her home, her job, without feeling trapped. Yet her eyes lit up when she regarded him. Her smile came easily, whether it was in response to something he said to her or when her thoughts were farther away. She seemed to have an insatiable need for him physically; he had no problem with that, as he felt the same way.

He noticed she’d been entertaining herself with his library while he attended to his classes. Although there was always someone here in attendance during those times, she apparently didn’t spend all that much time talking to them. Yet, when the two of them were alone together, she’d shown no interest in the books. She preferred conversation with him? Absurd.

Again, he wondered if he wasn’t doing her an injustice, allowing his want and need of her to cloud his judgment. Would she be better off with Minerva? Minerva was no slouch when it came to defense. And she knew what Malfoy was capable of. Was Severus being selfish, and taking chances with Dariah’s well-being?

He’d recently begun to take her on outings through the castle. It wasn’t much, but at least she was moving around. Conversation between them on these outings was limited; Severus concentrated on every little thing going on around them, and on that one unfortunate occasion when a third-year Hufflepuff had turned a corner suddenly, surprising Severus, it took Poppy Pomfrey all of three days and nights to revive the poor girl. Albus had said nothing, but he was beginning to look at Severus from the corners of his eyes.

He had a special treat planned for her today. He’d noticed her look of wistful longing as she’d looked out the window in his kitchen. He thought hard about it, and concluded that she’d be as safe outside on the grounds as she could be in his rooms. And surely, the extra wards Albus had added to the perimeters of Hogwarts would warn him of Malfoy’s approach.

He looked over to where she was brushing her hair. She could use some sun, he knew. This particular flower was never meant to be locked away. He lost his train of thought as he watched her work the brush through her silky black hair. He could feel a stirring in his nether regions, and wondered briefly if there was anything she could do that wouldn’t invite the same reaction from him.

She had been leaning slightly forward, brushing her hair over her head, covering her face. Suddenly, she flipped her head and as the long hair flew back into place, her eyes met his. Something of what he felt must have shown in his eyes, as her eyes began to smolder.

Much like the Muggle scientist Pavlov’s dogs reacted to the ringing of a bell, he felt himself answering the unspoken call of his lover. He moved to where she sat, tangling his fingers in her hair, kissing the waiting lips. His trousers were uncomfortably tight, and became even more so as her hand covered his bulge. He moaned against her neck, kissing the pulse that was rapidly beating there.

He heard the hairbrush drop to the table, and the hand that had been holding it began to work at his buttons. Oh, gods, would he ever tire of her? Probably only a century after she would tire of him. He knew nothing except her touch, and so it was with surprise that he felt her push him away. He looked at her questioningly.

“Someone is at the door,” she said, struggling to get her breathing under control. He looked dumbly at the door. How could he not have heard? Then, he heard the pounding. He recognized Albus’ knocking. No one else could manage to tap softly and yet make it sound so much like a pounding at the same time, he reflected. Why hadn’t he used the Floo?

His face hot as he rose to answer the door, he wondered if Albus had tried the Floo, but found Severus and Dariah too busy to answer. He adjusted himself in his trousers, hoping that wasn’t the case. Blinded as he was by his feelings for Dariah, he had no wish to share this part of himself with anyone else, vicariously or otherwise.

He opened the door to let Albus inside, and darted a quick look at Dariah. She’d composed herself somewhat; she was breathing more steadily and had straightened her shirt, where he’d begun to remove it from her body. She smiled quietly at Albus. “Good afternoon, Albus,” she said. “I haven’t seen you around for a long time.”

“Yes, I must confess I found it difficult to face you, after all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not another one...”

Albus raised his eyebrows, looking to Severus to interpret. “Dariah insists we shouldn’t blame ourselves, Headmaster. I fear she’s something of a fatalist.”

Albus frowned thoughtfully. Looking at Dariah, he asked, “Is this true? Do you really believe all these...annoyances...have been fated?”

“I simply don’t think guilt serves a purpose,” she answered. “Let it go.”

“The reason I worry,” Albus continued, “is because of the potion Malfoy had been using on you. If your mind was already conditioned to leave everything to the Fates, you’d probably not be in the best position to fight the summons.”

Severus watched as she looked inward, already familiar with her mind’s ability to process logic. She looked up, addressing both him and Albus. “I believe in fate, but I also believe in people changing their fate. I’ve often fought what I thought destiny held in store for me. That’s how I came to know about your world in the first place. It’s my fate that makes me a Muggle; it’s my curiosity and desire that makes me want this world anyway.”

Albus smiled, apparently satisfied. “In spite of everything that’s happened, I, for one, am glad you’ve come to be in this world. It would be much emptier without you.”

She smiled at his words, then locked eyes with Severus. He knew that the headmaster’s words were meant more for him than for her, and he agreed with them. He tried to put this feeling into his eyes, wondering how clairvoyant one must be in order to read the message.

“And what are your plans for today?” Albus looked from one to the other, as if it never occurred to him that they might just sit in the dungeon rooms yet again, whiling away their time.

“A walk through the grounds, I think.” Severus waited to see if Albus would raise any objections.

“Splendid! A good time to test the wards, I think.”

Severus was mildly surprised not to have to fight him on this. “How exactly do you propose we test the wards? Have you reason to believe Malfoy is lurking just out of range right now?”

“No, I have reason to believe he’s with his son in Germany. He knew about the raid, early enough to escape. He was too late to remove the evidence we planted, and to take Dariah with him. But still, he was able to save his own hide. That tells me he’s not yet so arrogant that he doesn’t think Azkaban will hold him.

“Now, I have some guests coming in this afternoon, one of which I know has questionable allies. I expect his presence to trip the wards. You, Severus, will know of this as soon as it happens. I will as well, but I won’t react to it. If the wards work on that subtle atmosphere of ill-will, then it will be even more effective if someone like Malfoy should cross the barriers.”

They parted company with Albus at the main staircase, Severus and Dariah continuing on to leave the castle through the huge doors at the main entrance. He was glad he’d brought her out here when he saw how her entire being lit up at being in the sunshine of the quiet afternoon.

Now that they were out here, where to go? He’d never paid all that much attention to the beauty around him, always going through the grounds only to get to his destination. She started off toward the greenhouses, and he moved to follow.

As they entered the shrubbery surrounding the greenhouses, Severus began to get just a little edgy. There was so much seclusion offered here; how many times had he run off randy students? He was reminded of the unfinished business between himself and Dariah, and knew that his will would be tested.

He watched her as she moved from sculpture to tree, from rosebush to another sculpture. She appreciated beauty, there was no doubt in his mind about that. She turned to study him, and he felt himself grow self-conscious under her scrutiny. He wondered what she was thinking about. Sometimes she was so difficult to read.

He looked at the statue she’d been looking at. Of course! Even he saw the resemblance between it and himself. Someone had long ago charmed the nose on it to match the hook in his own nose. Some prank-loving student, no doubt. But he’d never changed it back, taking smug satisfaction in the well-endowed charms of the statue. He’d never measured, but it seemed to him that he had more in common with the statue than its artist had intended.

He lifted up a corner of his mouth as he followed her gaze. Clearly, he’d correctly assessed her thoughts. She blushed prettily and moved to sit on the bench at the edge of the arbor. He joined her, deciding not to bring it up. It might lead to things he’d better not think about right now.

He rested his arm behind her on the back of the bench, lifting his face to the sun’s rays. This was a pleasure he’d never appreciated before he’d met her. The only things missing now were the stars. It had been so long since they’d lain in her yard, taking in the night sky.

She leaned back against him, and he didn’t care if some passing student, or even Sprout herself, happened to see the unapproachable Snape enjoying the close companionship of the lovely woman by his side.

He stood up suddenly, almost toppling her to the ground, as the sensation of something horrible passed over his being. The wards! He almost ran to the edge of the garden, looking toward the front gate. He saw Albus leading four wizards into the castle. Focusing on the distant group, he knew in his gut which one had tripped the ward. It was Trench. The wizard had lost his job at the Ministry more than five years ago, after being caught in questionable circumstances. The Panel hadn’t found anything that caused them to sentence Trench, but the Ministry could no longer keep him in his sensitive post, once his trust had been compromised.

Knowing Albus was aware of all that the wizard was about, he turned his attention back to Dariah, to the question in her eyes. “The wards work,” he said simply. Taking her by the hand, he returned with her to the bench, knowing that if Malfoy showed up, the feeling of danger being present would overwhelm him and so he need not concentrate so hard on him.

He had other things to concentrate on.


	17. It Always Comes from the Direction Not Considered

Chapter Seventeen  
It Always Comes From the Direction Not Considered

Lupin was a wizard possessed. He threw himself into his work, and the cells of Azkaban were filling up. He’d even been censured by Harry Potter for his zealousness. “You’re taking far too many chances, Lupin,” he’d said. “One of these days they’re going to be expecting you, and you won’t get away with it. What’s going on, anyway?”

He’d forced himself to calm down, not wanting anyone he worked so closely with to think he’d developed a sudden death wish. But he couldn’t tell even Harry what was making him so restless.

He couldn’t get them off his mind; it was as simple as that.

Ever since he’d walked in on Severus and Dariah, the visual and auditory imagery had plagued him. He was beginning to feel decidedly perverse as he took himself in hand each night; sometimes putting himself in Dariah’s place, other times, in Severus’ place. They were the most satisfying fantasies he’d ever employed, but he found it difficult to meet their eyes afterward. He felt as though he were invading their privacy. Even Dariah had once asked him if anything was wrong. He’d choked out a reply of some kind, then had bid a hasty retreat. It was embarrassing.

And Harry was right; he couldn’t afford to let his concentration stray when dealing with wizards willing to do anything to avoid arrest and prosecution. The full moon each month was enough of a distraction; if he didn’t purge this new obsession soon, he might just find himself joining Sirius before he was meant to.

He’d put a lot of energy into locating Malfoy. He hadn’t turned up yet, but Lupin felt confident about the leads he had found. He didn’t know how long Dariah could exist in the shadow of Hogwarts’ protection without going stir crazy. It was no life for her, no matter how happy she might be right now. It was the long-term repercussions he was hoping to save her from. Once Severus was away from her more than twenty minutes, he agreed with Lupin. She was still a prisoner.

Lupin had attended Percy Weasley’s hearing before the Wizengamot Panel. Under the influence of Veritaserum, his testimony had not given anyone cause to believe Malfoy had anything to do with the information passed. Ergo, Lupin could only surmise that Malfoy’s plans for Dariah had been for personal pleasure; nothing more, nothing less. _So even the great Malfoy has a weak spot for our lovely Dariah._ Lupin marveled at the idea that the wizard, who appeared to have more ego and confidence than any man had a right to, wasn’t willing to do anything the conventional way. He’d resorted to kidnapping and a magic potion to win her heart. What would he try next?

And that he would try again was something Lupin didn’t doubt for a moment. Wizards like Malfoy did not concede defeat. It wasn’t in his nature.

He put his musings aside as he entered the house on Grimmauld Place. It had been a long day, and he looked forward to a restful night. _If only I can keep my mind off sex._ What he really needed was a lover. Perhaps he should try chatting up that woman he’d met recently. Anderson’s younger sister. She seemed friendly enough. And Anderson had been effusive in his introduction, as if pushing him toward her. Might be something there...

As he lay on his pillow, he consciously forced away the thought of Severus and Dariah, concentrating instead on the soft beauty and quiet intelligence of Karen Anderson; her shy smile, the way her eyes seemed to change color with her mood...her quick smile...

* * * *

The platinum-haired wizard stood in the middle of the bedroom, concentrating. He’d come here, to Dariah’s old cottage, hoping to find a trace of Snape. The wizard had spent enough time here, Lucius was sure, that there should be something; a strand of hair, perhaps an abandoned fork; hell, even an eyelash would contain enough of the essence of the man for Lucius’ needs.

He raised his wand once more, charming the DNA of Severus Snape to reveal itself by emitting a bright red glow. Nothing. When that stubborn Muggle enchantress had moved out, she hadn’t left anything behind. He left the bedroom, passing the bathroom that he’d already been over again and again, and headed into the kitchen. Physically opening drawers and cabinets, he found nothing but dust, and one lonely spider.

Slamming the drawer shut in his frustration, he wandered to the back door, opening it to peer through the screen door. He gazed around the yard, stepping onto the porch. Seeing the pencil on the table, he picked it up, noticing with hope the teeth marks on it. He’d recognize that bite anywhere. It had to be Severus’ teeth that had made those marks. He tried his charm again, and smiled widely when the pencil became red.

Placing the pencil carefully into the pocket of his robes, he Disapparated.

* * * *

“I have to patrol the halls and the grounds,” Severus told her, hating to leave. “Albus has let me off the hook for too long now, and I must not take advantage of it.”

“No problem,” she said. “You know I’m as safe here as if you were right next to me. You’d feel Malfoy’s presence if he entered the grounds, with Albus’ new wards in place.”

He sighed, not wanting to leave their bed. “What will you do, in the meantime?”

“I’m going to escape through the window and run out to the Forbidden Forest, jump into the lake and grab the first merman I see. I’m going to make wild, passionate love to him.”

“As if I’ve left you any energy for that,” he taunted.

“Your ego is showing.”

He smiled, using a charm for a quick cleaning and freshening before he pulled on his robes. “I shouldn’t be too long,” he said. “I’ll try to be back before midnight, at least. It all depends the whims of students whose vocabularies don’t include the word, ‘curfew’.”

She blew him a kiss and picked up a book from the nightstand. He looked at the title. _The Purloined Letter._ How could someone so full of life insist on reading an author who’d been more interested in death? He’d never completely understand her, but he enjoyed it when he could talk her into reading to him. He loved the sound of her voice, even as she read Poe. Perhaps he could persuade her to read some of Poe’s poetry to him later on. He was happy to reciprocate, and she always chose something from the romance genre on those occasions. It flattered him, and he put as much emotion into his voice as he was capable. Sometimes, being as those books could get quite graphic with their love scenes, the book would be tossed aside and forgotten as her hands busied themselves with his person.

He took himself away from his—their--rooms, knowing that the sooner he finished his rounds, the sooner he could come back.

* * * *

She’d fallen asleep, her book forgotten against her chest. She woke when she felt the bed shift, looking up to see Severus staring down at her. What was that look for? She drew in a breath to ask what was wrong, when she saw a flash of panic in his eyes. Startled to panic herself as he clamped a hand on her mouth, she held her breath. What was he _doing_?

Then, because the contact between the two allowed her to see more than was normal, she realized it wasn’t Severus here with her. It was the same nauseating entity who had touched her face back at the mansion. What magic allowed Lucius to look like Severus? Her survival instincts took over and she quickly formed a plan. She forced a calmness to her features, about to play the most important poker game of her life.

Frowning, she brought her hand up to his, urging him to uncover her mouth. “It’s you, isn’t it? Why did you leave me? They took me away; brought me here! Why didn’t you take me with you?”

It seemed to be working. He visibly relaxed, taking his hand away. She hid a sigh of relief and let confusion show through her eyes. Forcing herself to sit up, the quilt falling away, she heard his intake of breath as her bared breasts were revealed. _Good, let him look his fill, just please, please don’t let him touch me again._

But his hand reached out, softly touching her. She willed the revulsion not to show in her face, and tried to pretend it was the real Severus in bed with her. She let out a yelp as he painfully pinched her nipple.

“Do you expect me to believe you’re not here willingly? You’re not dressed as a model prisoner would be.”

“He never comes in here,” she said defensively. “Why do you think I was confused when I saw who I thought was Snape sitting here with me? And how did you manage that, anyway?”

“I’m able to become him, for a short while, with the use of a potion they don’t teach here at Hogwarts. He’s become me, by the way, so I expect he’ll be bursting in here any moment now.”

“They’re keeping me here to lure you, I think. This may be a trap!”

“They can try, I suppose,” he said disdainfully. He sat silently, appearing to turn her words over in his mind. “Are you really here against your will?”

“Yes. There are wards up that I can’t get past.”

He looked around. “For a prison, they’re surely making sure you’re comfortable.”

“Just like you did,” she said. “Why did you treat me so nicely, by the way?”

“I wanted you to _want_ to be there,” he said, shrugging. “I want you to want me.”

She didn’t answer with words she doubted would sway him. She smiled softly, touching his chest, undoing a few buttons. Then she let a frown come to her face. She pulled her hand back, waiting for him to ask, as she knew he would. “What’s wrong, Dariah? Are you having second thoughts about me?”

“Do you realize that you even _sound_ like him? It’s not him I want to see.”

She realized she couldn’t do anything to hurt him in any way while he was using Severus’ body. She didn’t know what magic allowed this, but if he was possessing Severus, then Severus would be the one to get hurt, not Lucius.

“Let me take you away from all of this,” he was saying. “Once we get back to my mansion, the potion will have worn off and I’ll be back to my own self again.” He smiled, helping her to stand. She watched his eyes, seeing for the first time how they changed. Because they were Severus’ eyes, they had darkened as he took in the sight of her naked body. She steeled herself to show nothing but a trace of shyness as she pulled on her clothes.

She wondered why he hadn’t tried to summon her; wasn’t that the purpose of the potion he’d used on her? Or maybe there hadn’t been enough time for it to take effect. Maybe she was invulnerable to it. She hoped it was the latter; she’d need strength he didn’t know about if she were to get out of this mess.

As he pulled her out the window behind him, sitting on, of all things, a broomstick, she heard the sound of the door crashing and knew that Albus or the real Severus had been alerted to Malfoy’s presence. She couldn’t look behind her to see, as Lucius flew them upward and onward at what she assumed was the speed of light. Closing her eyes against the landscape and horizon flying past her vision, she leaned into the hated wizard’s chest, willing herself not to sway enough to fall off. He might just let her.

Between the nausea she felt at being in such close proximity to him and the vertigo she experienced on the broom, she was grateful to feel them slowing down. He dismounted, holding her until she got off. She pretended to lose her footing, hoping it would break his contact with her, but he held on, helping her to her feet. She forced herself to smile up at him, allowing him to see her shakiness. “I hope I’m not expected to travel that way very often,” she said, hoping he’d hear humor in her voice.

He smiled widely, and led her into the mansion. “Except for the house-elves,” he said, “we’re all alone here. And I don’t expect to be disturbed.” He looked meaningfully into her eyes. She forced her thoughts to Severus, and reached up to touch his lips with the tips of her fingers.

“I’ve never seen your bedroom, Lucius.”

Were there really wizards this stupid? Seemingly with no suspicions, he led her into a hallway full of paintings and artwork that were probably worth a fortune. As they passed through an ornate archway, he waved his hand around, lighting the room in soft light. “And here it is, my dear. I was so hoping the day would come soon when you would ask to see it.”

She looked at the bed, then back at him. He frowned, asking her with his eyes what was wrong. This next step would be difficult. Could she pull this off? What regrets would she have about it later? She looked at him, at a loss for words.

“What’s wrong, Dariah? Have you changed your mind?” She could barely hear it, but there was now an slight edge to his voice she remembered only too well from her last visit to this place. She willed her brain to work.

“You still look like him,” she said.

His forehead smoothed out, and he smiled in what appeared to be relief. “Ah, yes the Alternate Persona Potion. Fear not, it’s just about due to run out.”

Even as she watched, his hair lightened, fading out to the almost white color that matched his eyes, now having faded to such a light blue as to seem colorless. His hair came in short and spiky, and as the brown eyes changed, so disappeared all the expression that Severus’ eyes showed. The clothes became Lucius’ elegant robes, and it was easier to look him in the eye; he must have been at least three inches shorter than Severus. No more excuses.

He reached a hand up to his hair, a look of horror crossing his features. “What the hell...?”

She reached out to him, bracing herself against the sinister and disgusting mass she knew she’d sense upon touching him. _Oh, Severus, I’ll never be the same after this._ She leaned into him, kissing him, taking his mind off his hair and commanding all his attention so he wouldn’t notice that she was reaching for the letter opener she’d spotted on his bureau.

* * * *

Severus swore, fighting against the hands that held him. It was a knee-jerk reaction; he really didn’t expect to be able to fly out the window to give chase. He allowed Remus and Albus to pull him back into the room, shaking off their hands. He reached up to run his hands through his hair, surprised again that it wasn’t his hair. Without conscious thought, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and began hacking off the white hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” Remus didn’t try to stop him, and Albus coughed into his hand.

“This potion has only a few more minutes to work, I believe. Let him wonder what happened to the hair he was so vain about. If I had the time, I’d dye it pink!”

He saw Remus fighting not to laugh. The childish display of temper made him feel more in control, paradoxically, and he began to pace, thinking out his next move, the butchered hair spiking up all around his head.

“We must get to the mansion immediately. We have to get past whatever wards he put up and grab him before he can escape. I have little doubt that he’ll try to take Dariah with him this time.”

“What can we expect from him in the way of his security?” Albus asked the question quietly, and Severus knew he was trying to will his serenity onto him. He was grateful; it seemed to work.

“I don’t believe anyone else knows what he’s up to,” Severus said. “He wanted Dariah all to himself. It’s personal. Therefore, there will be no one standing guard. It’s only the wards we’ll have to face. I think we can expect some help from Nome in that area.”

“Let’s go.” Albus led the way out the door, Severus and Remus following. It wasn’t often the old wizard moved so quickly, and Severus was again fortified by the strength and determination emanating from him.

As soon as they cleared the Hogwarts boundaries, they Disapparated together, winding up directly at the front door of the Malfoy mansion. Concentrating on the wards, Severus began easing them down, not wanting too much noise to alert the treacherous wizard to their presence. As expected, they were not very complicated, Nome probably having changed them to the old ones Severus was already familiar with.

As the final ward was lifted, he opened the door, listening. He threw off the heavy ball of fear in his stomach as he forced his legs to move toward the hallway, where it appeared to be the source of an awful screaming. What had the beast done to her?

The three of them burst through the door at the end of the hallway to see blood everywhere. The screaming seemed to be coming from the middle of a moving, lumpy mess, and Severus searched through it from his distance, finally seeing spiky white hair in the middle of it. His mind couldn’t register what his eyes were seeing.

Albus stepped forward. “Silencio!” The sound of Lucius’ voice stopped, but he continued to scream. His veins stood out on his neck, his head writhing back and forth, spattering more blood around. Severus looked around the room, searching for Dariah. He saw movement from the corner of his eye, and peered out of the large glass door into the garden.

He saw the white of her sweater against the darkness of the garden and rushed over to where she was standing, motionless. He touched her face, his eyes quickly running up and down her form to see if her injuries were apparent. He could see no pulsing blood, but she was covered with it; she needed Poppy. Her face was white, except for the smear of what must be blood near her mouth.

He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “What happened?” he asked.

She looked away, pointing toward a tree in the far side of the garden. He pushed her to a sitting position and ran over to investigate. He could see nothing, but beyond the tree, he heard the sound of an animal of the night attacking its prey. What had she pointed to? Had the animal beyond the walls frightened her?

He returned to where Remus was now crouching next to her, trying to get some answers from her. He stood next to them, wondering what injury was causing Lucius to scream. That’s when he realized that blood was still spurting out of Lucius.

With Severus and Remus helping her to her feet, he saw her take a deep breath, forcibly calming herself down. He felt a surge of pride in her ability to keep a cool head. Goddess though she was, she was tough enough to get by.

“What were you pointing to over there, Dariah?”

“Lucius.”

He looked at Remus in confusion. The other wizard seemed just as mystified. He tried again. “Dariah, Lucius is in the bedroom, bleeding and screaming. What’s out in the back garden?”

“Part of Lucius. Probably what makes ninety percent of him.”

Remus shrugged, heading back into the bedroom to help Albus deal with Malfoy. Severus pulled Dariah close to him, wanting to comfort her. He felt her hesitate, but then her arms wrapped around him, drawing strength from him. Whatever had happened, he knew she’d face it. He could feel the trembling lessen, and once again, he was impressed with her ability to face trouble head on.

He led her around to the side gate of the garden, not wishing to walk her past the silent, but still screaming, Malfoy. Using his wand to remove Lucius’ blood from their clothing, he led her to a slight hollow in the front lawn. He pulled her down next to him until they were lying, and pointed up to the stars. They’d lie here, relaxing, and he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about leaving the mess inside for the other two to take care of.


	18. A Would-Be Demand for Justice

Chapter Eighteen  
A Would-Be Demand For Justice

Remus almost choked as he realized what caused Malfoy’s agony. He was missing a very important part of his anatomy. He shut his eyes. Even though it was Malfoy, and even though it was fitting because of what he’d been planning for Dariah, he couldn’t help but feel a flash of sympathy for a fellow man suffering this particular injury and indignity.

“Albus...”

“I know.” Nothing more was said between them as Albus used his wand to cauterize Malfoy’s wound, stopping the bleeding. He went to Malfoy’s bedroom fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and put his head into the flash of green light which followed.

“Ah, Harry, so glad to see you. Your assistance is needed. It’s something of an emergency, and if you would be so kind as to bring along four of your best associate Aurors, it would be greatly appreciated. Come here to the Malfoy mansion, would you?”

Remus heard him mutter a few more words before pulling his head back from the fireplace. He came over to where Remus was still hovering over the wretched Malfoy, not knowing what to do next.

Almost instantly, Harry, Anderson, and two others entered the room from the fireplace. “You broke up our poker game; Ron is on his way over from home,” he said, taking in the mess before them. “What...?”

“We don’t have the entire picture,” Remus told him. “Severus is with Dariah right now, questioning her.”

“Is she all right?”

“I think so,” he said. “He didn’t mention taking her to the hospital. Perhaps he just took her away from this so she could calm down. She was quite shaken up.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” Harry said, awe in his voice. “Is he missing what I think he’s missing?”

“That he is.”

He saw Harry shudder at the thought, and Anderson grabbed his own package as if to protect it from the absent Dariah. “Where is it now?” he asked.

Remus frowned. “You know, I forgot to ask. He’ll need it at St. Mungo’s, if they’re to put things right.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t break your neck to find it,” Anderson suggested. “After all, it’s Malfoy. A lot of women, witches and Muggles alike, would breathe more easily if he lost it for good.”

Remus smiled. “Remember, you’re the good guy. We can’t resort to Malfoy’s tactics, just because we can.”

Anderson shrugged. “It was just a thought.” He began half-heartedly looking around the room, occasionally pushing aside a blood soaked object in the search.

As Ron Weasley emerged from the fireplace, Anderson brought him up to date. Remus and Harry began making notes about the state of the crime scene for their reports. Albus performed a cleansing charm on Lucius to prevent infection. When they had everything they needed, including a wicked-looking, bloodstained letter opener, they cleared away the blood and lifted Malfoy onto the stretcher they’d summoned.

Albus had mercifully Stupefied Lucius. After having a few words with Nome, he led the way out of the house through the garden door.

Rounding the corner at the front of the mansion, Remus saw Severus helping Dariah to her feet. He pointed to Lucius. “We’re escorting him to St. Mungo’s,” he said, needlessly. For Dariah’s benefit, he added, “Once they’ve done what they can, it’ll be the Wizengamot Panel for him.”

He glanced at Severus, having learned nothing about Dariah’s state of mind. He chose his next words with care, not wishing to upset her now that Severus had managed to calm her. “Dariah, where is Lucius’... Where might you have...” Damn! There was no easy way to ask. He looked again at Severus, pleading with his eyes.

He saw Severus’ eyebrows lift as he realized Remus’ dilemma. He watched Dariah’s face as Severus leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Where is his cock, my dear?”

Her face cleared, and she pointed to the gardens. “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” she said. “I threw it beyond the garden.”

Remus watched in amazement as Severus doubled over, his laughter ringing out in the still night. Had he ever heard Severus laugh before? From the belly up? Albus and the Aurors had already Disapparated, and he needed to take the organ in question to St. Mungo’s before too much time had passed for a successful reattachment.

Severus suddenly ran off to the gardens, his progress impeded by the occasional surrender to humor. Remus followed, noticing that Dariah had chosen to linger in the front yard instead. He caught up with Severus only when he slowed down enough to climb the back wall to a place beyond the Malfoy grounds.

He watched as Severus crouched, using his wand to light the area. He looked up at Remus. “It’s just as I feared,” he said, a trace of laughter still in his voice. “An animal has devoured it. What little remains could be taken up with tweezers. St. Mungo’s will not be able to do a thing, except see that he heals. Some sort of operation may be necessary to reroute his urinary tract. Perhaps someone should alert Narcissa?” At this, both men fell to the ground laughing, knowing they had to get it out of their systems before giving their reports to the Ministry.

* * * *

With the threat of Lucius Malfoy no longer present, she really should go back home. Her apartment might well have been rented out by now; her landlord would never understand how she’d come to leave so suddenly. Or the damage she’d unwittingly left behind. Forget her job; she’d been away without word to them for too long. She wondered vaguely if anyone had cared enough to inquire as to her disappearance.

But she still had all her inventory from the shop. She’d much rather open it up again than go back to the vet. Sure, she still punched a time clock, so to speak, but she was the one who decided when to punch it. And with a few phone calls and Owls, she could re-establish her old clientele. She was good at it, and her clients believed in her.

Tachonas would be getting out of Azkaban soon. She’d have a long talk with him about his dubious career choices, but she knew she’d be glad to see him again. He was always good for a laugh and a friendly conversation. And she knew her cottage was waiting for her. It had never even occurred to her to put it on the market. It was as if she knew she’d be back someday.

But still, something was holding her back. Knowing she could see Severus any time he could get away from school, and knowing she’d be welcome to visit here anytime, she still felt as if to leave would be to say good-bye.

Perhaps it was her empty bed she didn’t want to face. Wondering if it was essential that he keep his residence here at the castle, she began to imagine Severus moving in with her at the cottage. He could Apparate back and forth from the castle easily and quickly enough; was there another reason for him to stay at the castle?

Or maybe he didn’t want to live with her. She was taking an awful lot for granted. What if she’d read more into his attentions than he felt? Was his concern for her the result of the troubles he blamed himself for?

No, that couldn’t be it, she told herself. Things between them had started before any of her trouble. And she could see how much more relaxed he was these days. He laughed easily; he was even good-natured at the gentle teasing some of his fellow professors sent his way. He didn’t hesitate to put his arm around her shoulders in public, when it felt right. He’d even danced a few steps with her as a result of something she’d said to him; this in full view of passing students.

She decided to broach the subject next time she found herself alone with him.

* * * *

Severus sipped the tea Albus handed him, but declined the lemon drop. “Is it really necessary for her to be in attendance? What was the point of the deposition?”

“She wouldn’t have to actually attend the hearing if it were just the kidnapping and Dark Arts charges,” Albus answered. “But this latest incident requires her testimony before the Panel, as he intends to bring countercharges against us.”

“On what grounds?”

“He claims entrapment; he says Dariah had been trained by us to lure him to the castle. He further claims it was her idea to go to the mansion, solely for the purpose of attacking him. He states in his complaint that he’s the victim in this, and as he can in no way be recompensed for his injuries, he feels we should face the Panel for charges of assault, among other things.”

“But the arrest we attempted because of the raid, which produced Dark Arts artifacts, is on record,” Severus argued. “It was all on the up-and-up, at least as far as the Panel knows. He fled from justice and returned, uninvited, to Hogwarts. Dariah has already sworn to what happened at the castle, and in his home. She was defending herself; how can he claim to be the victim here?”

“One of the points he’s trying to make here--” Albus paused to search through the documents that had been Floo’d in from the Ministry this morning. “--is that he feels she could have used a different manner of attacking him, and that she shouldn’t have...thrown away his...that perhaps she should have kept what she’d cut off.

“He also states that it was a deliberate move on your part to further remove all hope of his full recovery by feeding the wild animals outside the garden. He even adds that it wasn’t necessary to inform as many Aurors as had been involved. He’s claiming we spread this news as far as we could in order to humiliate him. He doesn’t seem to appreciate what you’ve done with his hair, either.”

Severus struggled to keep his face passive. It wasn’t easy; every time he thought of Malfoy’s predicament, he felt an almost uncontrollable urge to laugh. “And how do you see the Panel responding to his counter-complaint? Are we getting support from Fudge?”

“Actually, we are. I think Cornelius feels he finally has something even Lucius can’t get himself out of. Even without imprisonment, Malfoy will no longer be allowed into the Ministry without Aurors escorting him wherever his business takes him. He’s no longer a governor. Without Malfoy’s intimidating presence hovering over him, the Minister is getting brave.”

Severus had been staring into his tea cup, his thoughts only half on what Albus was saying. As he became aware of the blue eyes steadily regarding him, he looked up, apologizing with his eyes.

“Why do you worry so much about her attending the hearing?” Albus asked him.

“She’s been through so much already, Albus. Whenever I think she can get to the point where she can begin to put it all behind her, something else happens. I sometimes think it will never end, and I live in fear that she’ll soon come to the same conclusion.”

“But she keeps fighting back, doesn’t she? I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

“It’s different this time, I think. She seems more remote now than she was after Lucius’ first attempt. She blames herself for this entire thing. She thinks there’s something she should have done to prevent this latest incident. By the way, do we know why Lucius didn’t try to summon her as we had feared?”

“It’s possible that, like the Veritaserum, the Gadsrowe Potion may not work on her because of her Muggle clairvoyance.”

“Is Malfoy’s complaint against the Ministry and us, or has he filed against Dariah herself?”

“Nothing against her personally. He claims to believe she is in our employ.”

“That should be easily enough disproved. What is our defense against the rest?”

“Well, we’ll have the testimony of the Aurors who were there. Harry’s reputation is unimpeachable; both you and Remus are war-heroes. The Panel is aware of Dariah’s story. I don’t think anything will come of it. It’s a nuisance case, really. I’m actually surprised that Malfoy even feels up to this. He’s surely not completely recovered from his surgery. He has to know the entire story will come out, and it must be rather embarrassing for him...considering the nature of his injuries.”

“Perhaps he figures the wizards who compose the Panel are a rather tight-lipped group. There won’t be any outsiders in attendance, I trust?”

“The hearing has not been advertised, but it’s not closed, either. What are you thinking?”

Severus smiled, not answering. He stood to leave, the smile widening as he allowed his thoughts free rein.

* * * *

Lupin pushed three more Aurors into the chamber, quickly closing the door to avoid alerting any wandering Ministry employees to the unprecedented activity around the hearing chambers. The remaining crowd was wandering around on the upper levels of the Ministry, trying to blend in.

He sent a signal to Snape, who was lurking about the upper end of the dungeon staircase. When the other wizard sent more people downstairs, Lupin prepared to admit them into the hearing chamber. The more they could pack into the seats in the chamber, the better for everyone, except perhaps Malfoy.

The chamber could hold upwards of a hundred people. Take away a dozen seats, reserved for the Panel, and another six or so reserved for witnesses, and it still left quite a few seats available for anyone who wanted a first-hand look into this particular hearing. Snape, Lupin, Potter and Weasley had done their best to drop certain tidbits of gossip around, and finding enough people to fill the seats hadn’t been difficult.

Peeking into the chamber, he decided they’d go for standing-room-only status. He signaled last call to Snape, and waited until saw him come down the stairs with another twenty wizards and witches in tow. They quietly filed into the chamber. He saw Snape glance toward the front of the room, and knew he was worried about Dariah’s state of mind.

* * * *

Severus had decided not to tell Dariah what they were doing. But he caught her eye as she looked around the chamber. She smiled wryly and shook her head slightly. He smiled back at her. She’d figured out what they were up to, and he hoped she was finally beginning to see some humor in the situation. That she’d been able to fight back against Lucius’ attack on her was probably the very reason she wasn’t now helplessly depressed. Still, she’d been somewhat despondent, and he hadn’t known how to help her.

It was impossible for the Panel not to notice how the chamber had been filling up, but they had no grounds to protest. None of the spectators gathered made a sound; they sat waiting patiently. They’d been briefed by Potter and Weasley as to how important it was that they give the Panel no reason to remove them.

He held her eyes, wanting to see that she was calm, composed. It was important she show that inner strength to Malfoy, as this entire ploy was an attempt to get him to drop all charges and simply take his impending imprisonment like a man. It wasn’t right that Dariah should have to testify to all Malfoy had tried to do to her. It wasn’t her fault the world had produced such wizards as Lucius. Why should she suffer even more because of him?

He sat down as the rear door to the chamber opened, and Dementors surrounded Lucius Malfoy to escort him to the throne-like chair positioned in front of the Panel. Snape noted Malfoy’s almost imperceptible reaction to the crowd that had gathered. His steps had faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered himself. Snape had to admire the poise of the other wizard; swirling his robes, holding his shorn head high. He looked down his imperial nose at the crowd before him. Snape was gratified to see the straps immediately engage, securing Malfoy to the chair. Even without his wand, Malfoy might possibly be a threat to all in this room.

Snape looked around at all the wizards and witches gathered to listen to Malfoy’s story. He knew they’d been briefed on what behavior was expected of them; he just hoped they didn’t overdo it. Malfoy was not stupid, and neither were the members of the Panel.

“For the record, Mr. Malfoy,” Fudge began. “You are claiming that you were framed when certain Dark Arts artifacts were planted in your home. You claim the artifacts that had been confiscated from your premises did not belong to you and you don’t know how they came to be there.

“You further claim that Miss Dariah Moreland was not your prisoner, but rather your houseguest; that she was there willingly, of her own volition. You maintain that you went to see her at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at her invitation, and that it was her suggestion that you both return to your home, where she attacked you without provocation, irrevocably injuring you. That certain steps were taken to ensure that your injuries could not be healed properly.”

A very quiet wave of snickers could be heard throughout the chamber. If Malfoy heard it, he gave no sign. Fudge continued.

“The Panel have reviewed these charges, and as to the artifacts discovered on your premises, we have the testimony of shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley who have sworn that they sold them to you, and that you have, in turn, sold them other illegal artifacts. When you were informed of this testimony, you failed to prove your innocence; those charges stand.

“As to the kidnapping charge, the depositions from certain highly regarded wizards and Miss Moreland herself all attest that you had forcibly removed Miss Moreland from her place of residence, against her will and without the ability to leave voluntarily. The further testimony from Aurors convince the Panel that the wards which were removed in order to release her from the hidden room on your property are consistent with the charge of illegal imprisonment. Therefore, the Panel finds that charge will stand against you.

“The newer charges, those pertaining to the second alleged kidnapping, we are still investigating. And now you will answer the questions we’ve formed so as to understand exactly what happened at the time. How, exactly, did Miss Moreland summon you to Hogwarts, tripping the wards set in place by Headmaster Dumbledore?”

“It was a mental summoning,” Malfoy said. Snape thought he detected the slightest bit of hesitation in Malfoy’s cultured voice. Was it just wishful thinking? “There had been a sort of bond formed between us when she was first a guest in my home. She used this bond to contact me, asking me to come and rescue her from the clutches of the wizards at Hogwarts.”

“And how was this bond formed?”

“I don’t really know,” he said smoothly. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss when it comes to the magic of some Muggles. She had completely hoodwinked me.”

Snape shot a look at Dariah, but she appeared unconcerned, watching Malfoy steadily.

“And when you took her back to your home, what happened then?”

Malfoy was visibly uncomfortable now, glancing up at the spectators, who made a show of nudging each other with elbows, smirking. A little less subtle now, another wave of soft laughter floated through the chamber. There could be no mistake about it now. Malfoy was clearly reluctant to put into words how Dariah managed to stop his advances.

“She... She began to... We were going to make love, and...she...”

Snape looked again at Dariah. She was frowning, but otherwise seemed content to listen. He never learned all the details of what had happened, and began to wonder now how far it had all gone before she’d made her move to stop him. Was that the reason she’d been so aloof lately? Had that perverted wizard made her feel tainted? He remembered the blood near her mouth when he’d found her. Since she had been wearing Malfoy’s blood anyway, he had assumed it had all been splashed upon her. But the spatters had been mainly on her clothing, not so much her face. Great balls of Merlin himself, had she _bitten_ it off?

Fudge had been stoically waiting for Malfoy to regain his verbal abilities, and Snape concentrated on Malfoy’s words.

“I was...distracted,” he was saying. “I felt a terrible...an incredible pain...”

The laughter was building now. Malfoy looked around at the full room, clearly realizing they already knew the whole story, and knowing the laughter would only get more intense with the rest of the story. Seeming to have lost the poise necessary to continue, his voice trailed off and he tried to stand indignantly. The straps were still in place, however, and he was unable to carry it off. Fudge continued, seemingly unaware of the atmosphere of the room.

“What was this pain?”

“She bit me!” he spat, glaring at Dariah. Even this admission surprised Snape. They’d succeeded in bringing the Great Malfoy down to the muddy ditch of humanity. Laughter erupted from the spectators.

Lupin leaned over, and Snape listened to his whisper. “I didn’t know it had gotten that far,” he said. “How is she holding up, can you tell?”

“She seems to be holding her own,” Snape answered. “But I don’t want this to continue far enough to get to her testimony. She’ll probably refuse to speak, and he’ll get away with it.”

“Don’t worry; Harry and Ron made sure these folks understand they have to prevent that. Even the Panel won’t be able to restore order if it looks like it’s headed that way.”

Snape was grateful. If it weren’t for Lupin, Potter wouldn’t have been impressed with the importance of this strategy. Sometimes it paid off, having influential friends. He never kidded himself that he could speak civilly enough to Potter to impress upon him what he hoped to accomplish here. And yet, Lupin had managed to get the message across effortlessly. The werewolf was a born diplomat.

Fudge looked around the room, silently ordering them to be quiet. The laughter subsided, and he continued. “Was it at this point that you began to suspect her motives?”

Now the laughter was more spontaneous. At this point, the procured wizards and witches didn’t bother to act their roles; they were simply enjoying the show. Malfoy’s face was stony; he was trying to ignore the rest of the room, but Snape could see it was difficult.

“Yes, by then it occurred to me that all was not as she’d led me to believe.”

“Please continue.”

Malfoy was taken aback. “Continue?”

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Surely this bite wasn’t the injury mentioned in your complaint? You and St. Mungo’s mediwizards all claimed the injury was irreparable. Did something else happen?”

“She stabbed me.”

“Where did she stab you? There is no mention of a knife-wound in the--”

The aristocratic, but red face on the strapped-down wizard in the chair looked down as the explosive burst of the crowd’s laughter drowned out the rest of Fudge’s question. The Minister looked around the chamber, annoyed, waiting for quiet. It was a fruitless wait. He ordered two wizards from the Panel to begin clearing out the room, but that was all right. After all, their curiosity and acrimonious interest had been satisfied.

Snape glared wordlessly at Madam Umbridge as she tried to shoo him out of the room, and she thought better of it, leaving him to stay. After a quick glance at Lupin, who was standing behind Snape’s protective stance, she turned back to her seat on the Panel.

Snape and Lupin resumed their seats, and Dariah glanced up at him, winking. He began to feel better, knowing that if Malfoy persisted, Dariah would now be able to testify. She had the support of the average wizard behind her, and that must have increased her confidence and the belief that she’d done nothing so monstrous. He was surprised it bothered her so much to have done what she’d done to Malfoy. She had been defending herself, after all. Was there more to it than that?

Perhaps she’d frightened herself, knowing now that she was capable of such things. He could understand that; he’d always known the need to survive often revealed things about oneself that one didn’t wish to consciously acknowledge. Hadn’t he felt that way more than once?

What about Malfoy’s insistence that he’d been summoned by her? They never did figure out why Malfoy hadn’t summoned her, why he didn’t seem capable of it. Had it worked in reverse because of her Muggle clairvoyance? And how much power did this skill carry? Had she summoned Malfoy to the castle somehow? Even unconsciously?

He forced these thoughts away from his mind, knowing this was not the time for doubts.


	19. Guilt and New Ideas

Chapter Nineteen  
Guilt and New Ideas

Lupin filed out of the hearing chamber with a few other wizards, including Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster had been mysteriously silent throughout the hearing, waiting to see if his testimony as a witness would be required.

Albus turned his twinkling blue eyes on Lupin, congratulating him on a job well done. Knowing they’d never get away without Dumbledore’s knowing about it, Lupin felt he had to go through the motions of denying it anyway.

“We did nothing to sabotage the hearing, Albus. You saw us sitting there, quietly.”

“Yes, and all those others just happened to be passing by and discovered a routine hearing was in progress, I assume?”

“Well, Malfoy’s hearings are always big news. This time, they must have heard about it ahead of time.”

“And knew just when to laugh, it seems.”

Lupin shrugged, failing to hide his grin. “So, we’re all off the hook, then?”

“Was there ever any doubt? We have much more important things to do than to waste our time defending our actions, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Albus. Now that Voldemort and Malfoy are both out of the way, we have to concentrate on the one who thinks he can take Malfoy’s place.”

“And you know who that is?”

“We can take our pick, I think. There’s a lot of job security in the field of DADA.”

“Percy Weasley gave us some valuable information during his interrogation. We can’t claim surprise at some of the names he’d supplied.”

“How are Arthur and Molly holding up these days?”

“They’re keeping a low profile, but I think with time, they’ll begin to bounce back. On a logical level, Arthur knows he can’t assume responsibility for young Percy’s actions. And most folks are of the mind that young Weasley was simply too ambitious, too naive to really know what he was doing. Once he completes his sentence, there’s every possibility he can begin a new life. He’ll never again work in the Ministry, of course, but he has other strengths. Perhaps a position in the financial sector.”

“How long will he be inside?”

“His sentence is seven years. He’ll still be a young man when he gets out.”

“That’s still a long time for a youthful mistake.”

“Yes, but we can’t entirely blame his youth. He’s intelligent enough to have thought of the consequences before doing what he knew was wrong.”

“Why did they retain Severus?”

“Two of the other wizards on the Panel are Order members, as you know. They have a few questions about the artifacts Malfoy claimed never to have seen before.”

“But they sentenced him _because_ of those artifacts,” Lupin said. “They did that even if they doubted they belonged to Malfoy?”

“They don’t doubt they’re Malfoy’s,” Albus responded. “They just want to know more about how they’re used. They know Severus would be the one to ask. Don’t worry, Remus; Severus will be able to explain what they’re for without implicating himself in any way. It’s not for nothing that he’d survived Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters.”

Lupin saw Dariah come through the chamber’s door, looking more shaken up than she’d looked since the night they found her in the mansion, covered in Malfoy’s blood. He said a quick good-bye to Albus, then walked over to her.

“Dariah? Are you all right?”

She looked at him, her eyes focusing. “What have I done, Remus?”

“What do you mean?” He led her over to a bench, sitting her down and drawing her close. “He belongs in prison, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I think he belongs in prison. But I don’t think he deserves what I did to him. No one deserves that.”

“Dariah...” How to continue? She must not have doubts about this now. She could spend the rest of her life trying to atone for it, and where would that get her? She’d be more vulnerable than ever to the Dark Wizards who would exploit her guilt and coerce her to do who knew what? “Dariah, what was going through your mind when you were with him at his house? What caused you to pick up that letter opener?”

“He was in pain, but not enough to put him out. I knew he’d retaliate, and I didn’t think I’d come out the victor. I had to finish it.”

“So, you...” He forced himself to finish. This was no time to get squeamish. “So you did bite him, then?”

“Yes.”

“And you picked up the letter opener...”

“No, I already had it in my hand.”

“You planned what you were going to do, then?”

“Of course.” She looked at him, a frown marring the smoothness of her forehead. “You don’t think I’d be on my knees before him if I didn’t have a plan?”

“I hesitated to ask you for any real details, considering the nature of the...kidnapping and...the actual assault.”

“Yes, it’s not very pleasant, is it? But it happened. And I survived. So did he, but I’ll bet he wishes right now that he didn’t.”

“Did you plan to completely destroy it, then? You threw it away.”

“I knew there must be some form of magic that would reattach it, and then he’d be the same old Malfoy. Strong enough for retaliation. And so much angrier. It was do or die.”

“I agree. So I hope you remember why you did it, and remember also, you had no choice. There are plenty of his former victims, or rather their ghosts, who probably would love to have done what you did.”

“But sometimes I wonder what people must think of me now. The laughter I heard in the hearing chamber told me he had no end of enemies, but when they stop to think about my part in it...they must really think I’m a monster.”

“I doubt that very much, Dariah. I think they admire your spirit. You’re probably viewed as a very brave woman by most, because many of them, at one time or another, have been subjected to Malfoy’s intimidating ways. To have what it takes to fight back is something you take for granted, but they don’t. You haven’t been exposed to him for very long, but these wizards and witches have. I promise you, they don’t think of you as a monster. Nor should they.”

He pulled her to her feet, and with his hands on her shoulders, he looked sternly into her sad eyes. “I command you to stop second-guessing your part in all this. You should never have been dragged into such trouble in the first place, and you’ve handled it admirably. I forbid you to feel guilty about it. Clear?”

She smiled, and he saw that her eyes reflected that smile. She would find a peaceful way of living with this now, he knew. He pulled her close enough to kiss her cheek, and closed his eyes in contentment when she embraced him. He inhaled the scent of her as the door to the chamber opened once again. He turned to see Severus heading toward them, and the unbidden memory of a broken jaw filled his mind, causing him to pull away from her guiltily.

But Severus didn’t look upset, and Lupin bade them both farewell as he headed up the stairs to the main floor, where he could Floo back home again. He tried to erase from his memory the spicy smell of the shampoo she used, and the way her body felt under his hands; the warmth he’d felt in her arms. He knew his nightly fantasies would now take on a new dimension.

Unless... He decided to follow Anderson home, hoping he could connive an invitation to a family dinner from him. He had a sudden desire to see the blonde-gold curls and the blue-green eyes of Anderson’s sister again.

* * * *

Severus watched Dariah toy with her food, using her fork to break it up into smaller bits and moving it around on her plate. She’d done everything with the food except eat it, and he wondered if a poor appetite had become a way of life for her. She sipped her wine, catching his eyes over the rim. She smiled at him, but he wasn’t fooled. All was not right with her.

“What is it, Dariah?”

She didn’t insult his intelligence by denying anything was wrong, and he was glad. It meant she acknowledged that he knew her almost as well as she knew herself. It was that knowledge which would allow her to let him in, let him share her burdens. Sometimes, that was all that was needed.

“I’m wondering what comeuppance I can expect from Malfoy. Whether he has friends on the outside who will retaliate on his behalf, or if I have breathing space until his release.”

“He’s going to be there for a very long time,” Severus reminded her. “As for his friends...I believe only Flint considers Malfoy a friend, but there’s Narcissa and Draco to consider. I’m sure Narcissa doesn’t really care, but she might attack just because it’s expected of her. And Draco idolized his father.”

“So, how do I protect myself?”

“I would like to make sure you _want_ to protect yourself,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you’re still kicking yourself about what happened,” he answered. “I think a part of you wants to be punished for castrating him.”

She was silent, staring down at her uneaten dinner. He wanted to give her time to digest what he’d said, and so he began to clear away the remnants of their meal, stacking the dishes on the tray for a house-elf to collect later. He refilled her glass, and topped off his own.

Nothing more to be done, he sat down across from her at the table, waiting for her to look at him. She did, shrugging one shoulder. “There’s more to it than that,” she said softly. “I think maybe I did summon him to the castle.”

“And how is that possible?” This didn’t come as a complete surprise to him. He’d had the same thought himself. But it seemed that if such a thing did happen, at least it hadn’t been a deliberate occurrence on her part.

“I don’t know. But if the potion opened up some sort of telepathic highway between us, then I could communicate with him just as he could communication with me, right?”

“It would depend on how strong your will was, I would think. Have you tried? I mean, consciously?”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Just to test the theory.”

“And if it works? What then?”

“He can’t possibly come to you now,” he reminded her. “All your will added to his still won’t get him past the Dementors of Azkaban. This would be the perfect time to try it.”

She considered his words, and he could see that she agreed. Her brow knitted as another question occurred to her. “How would I go about doing that?”

“I would think if you concentrated on him, sort of mentally sending out a summons, that might do it.”

She continued staring at him, not really seeing him. He knew she was now seriously considering the experiment, and suddenly, he didn’t want her to do it. He didn’t know what corridor she might open up, and he was afraid that once something did open up, they wouldn’t be able to close it again.

“Dariah...”

She focused on him, waiting.

“I think perhaps it would be better if you delayed this idea until I have the time to research it. I have books I can check. I think I know where to find it...”

“Why? What is it you’re not telling me?”

“It’s the Dark Arts, I think. I mean, anything having to do with controlling another person’s will...it _must_ be Dark Arts, and that would be the reason these things aren’t widely known.”

“And you have books for this?”

He looked intensely at her. “Surely you knew?”

“A little. I am surprised, though, that you would still have books like that. Aren’t they enough to land you in Azkaban, like Lucius?”

“Not as long as I have Albus pulling for me. He would claim that I have the books so I can effectively teach the DADA classes if necessary.”

“So, let’s get those books.”

He stood, taking her by the hand and leading her to the Potions classroom. In the stockroom, he stood before an almost hidden door and muttered some ancient words to lift the wards. The door creaked as he opened it, and he led her in, closing and warding the door behind them. “Lumos.”

It wasn’t a large room, but it suited its purpose. He watched her as she looked around, taking in the odd instruments on the table top, the old books on the shelves. He waited nervously, knowing it was necessary to show her this side of him if he hoped to have any sort of future with her. He no longer practiced the Dark Arts, but he couldn’t erase history. These books and instruments were once a big part of his life; therefore, this room was a big part of him.

She was at the books now, perusing the titles. She took one from the shelf and brought it to the table. He glanced at the cover and quickly slammed his hand down on it before she could open it. She looked up at him, the obvious question in her eyes.

“Some of these books are more dangerous than others,” he explained. “This one will haunt you until you actually perform at least one of the spells inside. Why don’t we put it back on the shelf?”

She didn’t argue, but simply handed the book to him. He replaced it, taking instead the book that brought him down here in the first place. _Ye Olde Alchemy and Art Guide._ This tome would be the one, of all the books here, that might give him the answers he sought.

He pulled up a stool, seating himself and pulling her to his lap. She didn’t even touch this book; he was glad to see she had a healthy fear of Dark Arts books now. It didn’t pay to be too curious about some things. Opening the book, he skimmed over the table of contents, looking for the Gadsrowe Potion. He turned to the proper pages, and they both began to read.

* * * *

She was amazed at what she was reading. No wonder these books were taboo! The power it could give a wizard or witch! But as she read, she began to lose confidence. She wasn’t a witch. Even under the influence of the potion, how could she expect to actually use it?

“Severus, this isn’t something I’d be able to do, is it? What good would it do for me to chant this spell? I’m not magical.”

“In your own way, you are. What about your clairvoyance?”

“That’s not magic. I’ve heard it said that everyone has the capability. It’s just latent in some.”

“Do you really believe that?”

She looked back down at the yellowed pages. Who knew what she believed anymore? Her entire world had turned upside-down these last few months. “So, should I try this?” She willed him to tell her what to do. She felt she was on the brink of something so frightening, she knew she couldn’t do it alone. She wanted some sort of signal from him that he’d be there for her, that he knew how to keep her safe.

His silence made her worry that something was wrong. She looked up at him, unable to meet his eyes because he was studying the book before them. She began to feel sorry for dredging up the subject. Why couldn’t she have kept her worries to herself?

“According to what I’m reading here,” he said, finally, “you’ll be able to feel the connection, if it happens. It takes a powerful magical ability, so if you are, in fact, magical, we’ll know. If nothing happens, then clairvoyance is most likely a Muggle skill, not a magical talent. It sounds, really, like you have nothing to lose.” He looked into her eyes. “There are spells here that will allow me to offer you some protection. I will be with you every step of the way if you choose to try this.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck. As she felt his arms tighten around her securely, she knew she could trust him to look after her. She’d never felt safer in her life.

“Okay, Severus,” she said quietly into his ear. “Let’s do this.”

* * * *

Severus quietly chanted the words that would help protect Dariah as she began to drift off in a trance. She was concentrating, and he could actually feel the surge of energy that emanated from her. It was disquieting; it reminded him of the first Death Eater revels he’d ever attended. Was it the power of the Dark Arts causing him to feel this way or was it the obvious power of this woman before him?

He cut off his thoughts as she startled him with a low hissing sound. What was happening? He wished she could speak to him as she tried to contact Malfoy. He hated that he had to wait until she could tell him what was going on. What if he was too late to do anything? What if Malfoy seized the opportunity of this...this open channel...to manipulate her in some way? What would he have her do?

She called out wordlessly, clutching the arm of the chair, almost ripping the upholstery in her fists. He moved closer to her, trying to calm her, but she remained unaware of his presence.

Gradually, her hands began to relax, and she sat back, still gone from the room. He waited, not having any idea what else he could do.

After an interminably long moment, she bolted from the chair, running toward the wall. If he hadn’t grabbed her, and it hadn’t been easy to hold her, she’d have run straight into the wall with enough force to cause herself serious injury. What was she running from? All his spells hadn’t seemed to do a bit of good.

He pulled her to his lap, sitting them both on the sofa. Murmuring nonsensical words of comfort to her, smoothing his hands down her arms, her back, gently brushing the hair away from her face, he waited for her to become fully aware of him. He relaxed slightly on seeing her eyes focus on him, but was concerned when she buried her face against his chest. He felt the trembling of her entire body.

Wondering what hell she’d faced, he continued his soothing noises, waiting her out. At last, she sat up, taking a deep breath and composing herself. Again, he admired the way she took herself in hand, toughening up instead of collapsing and yielding to hysterics. He idly wondered, if she were a student here, which House she’d be sorted into.

“It worked, Severus.” No expression to her voice. He felt the thrill he would expect to feel upon proving a theory, but at the same time, her lack of animation worried him.

“And what exactly happened, Dariah?”

“I felt...it was actually sort of an impact...like I’d thrown something...a ball...against a picket fence; after lobbing it a few times, I felt it slip through one of the slats. That’s when I felt it. I made the connection. I was in communication with Malfoy.” He heard the wonder in her voice, and knew that actual contact wasn’t what put the fear in her cry, the trembling in her body.

“He knew it was me. He knew what was happening. I felt his frustration; I think he was enraged because I contacted him when he couldn’t contact me. I couldn’t read his mind, exactly, but I felt his emotions. I feel contaminated.” She looked directly into his eyes.

“He’s dead.”

This last was said in the same tone of voice one would say that it looked like rain. He couldn’t place the meaning of her words right away. When he realized what she’d said, he could only stare at her, waiting for an explanation.

She held his gaze, her eyes lifeless. “I killed him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She was scaring him. “How is that possible?”

She let out a harsh laugh. “How is _any_ of this possible? How can you live in this world all your life and not think this is possible?”

He supposed he could see her point-of-view. She was a Muggle; he kept forgetting how new this world was to her. “And how, exactly, did you kill him?”

“I made him hang himself. He made a noose from his robes and tied it to the bars of his cell. He dropped hard to the floor, or tried to, and broke his neck.”

“That’s suicide, Dariah.”

“That’s coercion, Severus. He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t told him to do it.”

“How does that make you feel?” He didn’t know what to do if she hated herself for what she believed had just happened. How do you erase someone’s guilt complex?

“Frightened.” She paused, trying to form her words. He waited patiently. “Severus, it got good to me. I mean, I liked it that I could make him do that. What does that say about me?”

He had no answer. He pulled her tightly into his embrace, wishing he could have cut out his tongue instead of suggesting she try to contact Malfoy. He picked her up and carried her to bed, undressing her and pulling the blankets over her. He lightly ran his fingers through her hair, over her forehead, willing her to drift off to sleep. He began reciting the poems of Poe to her, the only ones he could remember by rote, lulling her into slumber. He needed to talk to Dumbledore; to have Albus contact Azkaban to find out what he could about the state of their newest prisoner. And he had to do it without implicating Dariah. He didn’t know if he believed what she did, but just in case, this was something he had no wish for anyone else to know about.


	20. Muggle or Not?

Chapter Twenty  
Muggle...Or Not?

By morning, Severus realized he didn’t have to think of a way to approach Albus with his questions about Malfoy’s health. The grapevine had already taken care of it. As he sat at the Head Table in the Great Hall, nursing a cup of coffee, he let the mumblings of his colleagues go through his head and filtered out all except what he needed to know.

Malfoy had killed himself in his cell. It had happened just before the dementors had made their last rounds of the night. Just about the time Dariah had been ‘in contact’ with him. There could be no further doubt.

So where did that leave Dariah?

Where did that leave him?

That she could have summoned Malfoy to the castle wasn’t a question he worried about anymore. It had taken a good deal of effort on her part to contact him last night, and Severus knew her reaction to it wasn’t an act. Ergo, it was the first time she’d tried it. But she seemed to have suspected she could do it all along. What did she know subconsciously that she didn’t know consciously? She must learn all that she was capable of, and then find a way of living with it. There must be an advantage to this newly found skill; they’d just have to find it.

So, to learn what the subconscious mind knew, he could probably hypnotize her again. If that didn’t work, he knew he’d have to have expert advice on how to proceed. Would that be the time to let Albus know of this new development? And what then? Would he try to make her into some sort of secret weapon? Use the Gadsrowe Potion to target their enemies, then just turn Dariah loose on them?

He couldn’t let that happen. She’d hate herself. And what had she said last night? _It got good to me._ What exactly did that mean? She had enjoyed it, on some level. Was it the power she liked? That thirst for power was addictive, and he didn’t want to think she was vulnerable to it. Perhaps her admission was because it was Malfoy, the wizard who’d put the fear of Van Demon into her.

He left the Great Hall, returning to his rooms. She was awake, sitting on the sofa, brushing her hair. She flipped it back into place, smiling tiredly into his eyes as he approached her. He sat next to her, unable to resist running his hands through her silky hair. He pulled her close, kissing her lips, searching for some sign, some feeling that she’d changed.

Pulling back, looking deeply into her eyes, he felt certain this was the same woman he’d tried to accost in Knockturn Alley once upon a time. The same woman who had gazed at the stars with him in the cool grass of a quiet yard. The woman who could reduce him to a blithering idiot just by touching her lips to his neck.

Relieved, he told her of what he’d overheard in the Great Hall. She didn’t seem surprised, but he couldn’t tell how she felt upon having Malfoy’s death confirmed, however unofficially. “Dariah, no one in the world knows how this happened except you and me. I think we should keep it that way, don’t you?”

“Hell, yes. The last thing I want is for the Wizengamot Panel to get wind of my part in this. Or anyone else, for that matter. Severus, you know a secret about me that no one else on earth knows.” She peeked slyly at him. “You own my soul, now.”

He smiled. “You’ve owned mine since that night in Knockturn Alley, when I thought I could buy you.”

“Really?”

He leaned forward, kissing her smiling lips. “Really.”

* * * *

She was supposed to be lying in his place. He was supposed to be hypnotizing her right now, delving deeply into her subconscious to see what secrets hid there. But it hadn’t worked out that way. Already bored with worrying about what powers she might possess, and no longer really caring, she’d turned things around. He hadn’t been hard to persuade, and now he lay naked, prone on the bed. She rubbed her hands together to warm the oils before rubbing them into his shoulders. He’d been under a lot of stress lately, she realized. No doubt because of her, and she felt guilty about it.

She worked his muscles carefully, wanting to ease away the tension without causing any pain. He’d assured her that the scars on his back didn’t cause him any pain, so she ignored them as she concentrated on the motion of her hands, pushing away the tightness under his flesh in an outward movement. She smiled as she worked, loving the feel of his skin under her hands.

She worked her way down his back, stopping at his hips and returning slowly upward again. At his shoulders, she moved down each arm, satisfied to see how easily she could move his arms; he was already entirely relaxed. She massaged her way down his back again, this time continuing, playing with his ass, gently rubbing and lightly squeezing his thighs. Other than a brief shifting of his hips, he could have been sleeping. Knowing that shift was to reposition himself to compensate for his erection, she decided to make it a different kind of massage.

Nudging him until he rolled over, she ignored the proof of his excitement and again started with his shoulders. Apparently content to let her have her way with him, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. She decreased the pressure of her hands and moved them lower to rub lightly on his pectoral muscles, just barely brushing past his male nipples. His cock twitched in response, but he kept his eyes closed, his breathing still slow, although a little shaky.

She firmly, yet lightly, rubbed her hands across his abdomen; she could feel the heat from his erection as she kept moving near it. She refrained from touching it, and smiled as she watched the telltale twitch each time she got closer to it. As she pulled away again, she was smugly amused at the change in his breathing; it was becoming more labored, and did she hear the slightest growl?

Shifting so she could comfortably reach the lower half of him, she took her time touching and massaging his legs. She gently nudged them until he spread them further apart. As she tickled the inside of his thigh, he moaned out loud and reached out to hold onto the sides of the mattress.

Knowing he did this to resist guiding her hands, she contentedly continued her playing, moving up and down his thighs, feeling the muscles under his skin tightening.

* * * *

Ah, sweet gods, this was torture. Before having met Dariah, he’d always been the aggressor; always controlling each move, each thrust. To set her free to do as she wished...that was the ultimate surrender. He was amazed he could do it. Granted, it was difficult; every nerve ending cried out for more direct contact. He’d grabbed the bed in an effort to let her continue her slow torment, knowing she’d make him believe it had been worth the wait.

He didn’t feel particularly selfish, receiving all this attention; he suspected she was enjoying it almost as much as he. Why else would she draw it out this way? Ohhh...she’d found the area under his ball sac and was driving him mad. His breath came out in gasps as he looked into her eyes; the devilish sparkle he saw there told him that she was just beginning. Feather-light touches of her fingertips on his balls caused him to moan out loud, and his knuckles were white with his grip on the bed.

Oh, yes... _gods, yes..._ she wrapped her hands around his throbbing cock, sliding them slowly up and down the shaft. He could almost feel the creases in his brain smoothing out as she drove him beyond coherent thought. He wasn’t going to last long, and it was not in his power to change that. His hips were jerking upward, and he wasn’t controlling that either.

“Dariah!” Oh, gods, she rubbed her palm over the head of his cock; he could feel everything in his body straining toward release. No, no... He glared at her in disbelief when he felt her hands leave him. She was again smoothing those incredible hands over his legs, and he struggled to control his breathing. His heart, though still beating erratically, had stopped thumping in his chest. He took a deep, calming breath.

While he had the presence of mind, he muttered a few words and smugly gloated at the surprise in her eyes as her clothes disappeared. Before he could reach for her, she leaned over and grabbed his hands. He allowed her to push them under the pillow, and now that he’d calmed down a little, he willingly grabbed the pillow, eager to see what she’d do next.

That resolve was soon gone, however, as her body glided against his on her way back down to sit between his legs. Just the touch of her flesh against his angry erection was enough to bring him right back to the edge. _Touch me, oh, gods, Dariah, please touch me..._

Fingertips guiding his shaft, she covered it with her hot mouth. He shut his eyes, a startled gasp escaping him. She breathed around it, her breath hot against it. The slight suction made him moan as she pulled back, tickling the head with her tongue. Another gasp as she released him completely, and he looked on as she pursed her lips and blew cool breath onto him. _I can’t take much more of this..._

He focused on her, noting that her nipples were hard. There was a definite flush to her skin and her eyes were almost black in her passion. If he could just...

He wrapped his legs around her waist, catching her by surprise. He pulled her on top of him, his erection caught between them. Flipping over, he pressed her down into his bed, grabbing her wrists and holding them in one hand above her head.

As he nibbled and sucked at her lower lip, he moved his free hand down from her shoulder to her breast, firmly shaping it, then using his flattened palm to tease her nipple. She was panting now, moving her hips under him. He lifted up slightly onto his knees, just far enough away that he could still function. He lowered his head, taking her nipple into his mouth, lightly nipping at it. Her panting had turned into gasps, and he wondered if he had the patience to draw this out as long as she had.

Turning to her other breast, he gave it the same treatment. His mind wandered enough so that she was able to pull one had free from its confinement and she used it to reach for his cock. She guided him to her opening, and he allowed it. As he pushed only the head into her, he waited for her to bring up her hand again. Once she did, he again grabbed her hands with his, effectively pinning her down under him. With his weight supported on his arms, she’d not easily be able to escape again.

He withdrew from her, catching her muffled protest with his mouth. Thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth, rubbing his erection against her swollen folds in the same synchronized movements as his tongue, he basked in her response. She began rocking her hips, grinding into him, and he took his lips from hers so she could breathe. Oh, her wetness against him, the passion in her; he didn’t care who won this contest between them. He’d see to it they both won.

“Oh, Severus...now, please, take me now, oh God, Severus...”

He needed no further coaxing; he thrust quickly into her, filling her up completely, feeling her hands tighten painfully around his own. He withdrew almost completely, plunging deeply again, pressing himself against her, rubbing her breasts with his chest, wanting to touch her everywhere at once.

Oh, he could feel the tension, so eager for release. He shifted his hips, trying to find the secret spot inside her that would bring forth the wild animal that dwelled within her. Oh, _YES..._ there it was; he could feel her body temperature climb instantly, could feel the almost-electric surge taking over her body, feeding his. As her harsh moans filled his ears, he felt his balls pull up, and everything in him coiled, ready to spring. As her nails gouged his hands, and her cry rang out, he felt her muscles convulse around him. He felt his climax pull up from his legs, from his chest, all to gather in the middle of him.

He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. He bucked his hips against her, mindless now in his movements; he called out her name as he poured everything he had into her, every emotion he’d ever felt, every thought; he gave to her his very soul.

* * * *

Lupin wasn’t sure how he felt upon hearing the news of Malfoy’s suicide. Remembering how he and Severus had doubled over with laughter at the thought of an animal devouring what Dariah had thrown its way, he was filled with remorse. Concentrating on all the things he’d known Malfoy had been responsible for, and knowing what he’d had in store for Dariah, he tried to banish all the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.

Knowing Malfoy wouldn’t feel a drop of compassion if their roles were switched didn’t help. One of the main differences between Malfoy and himself was the humanity Malfoy wasn’t capable of. Lupin hadn’t felt this bad since... He remembered the night of the full moon so many years ago...when Sirius had lured Severus to the Whomping Willow, knowing Lupin was waiting at the end of the tunnel. _No, not me. It was my alter ego._

Shaking away those thoughts, trying to concentrate on the report in front of him, he decided he’d keep his mind filled with the mundane aspects of his job. He could analyze his part in this debacle when he was at home, alone. No one there to ask what was wrong. Just the empty house and its echoes.

He had managed to hint around to Anderson that he’d like to get to know Karen a little better. Just as Lupin suspected, Anderson was fine with that. But family dinners were rare, and he’d promised to use his subtle skills as an interrogator to find out what Karen thought of him. Lupin shook his head at his own folly. He didn’t even have the balls to find this out for himself. Was he really so afraid of rejection?

Yes, he was. He could admit it to himself and with only a small amount of shame. One would think a lifetime of rejection would have inured him to it, but there it was. He suffered each time. And if Karen wasn’t remotely interested in him, he didn’t know what he’d do. It was difficult for him to meet new people, and he wasn’t about to avoid Dariah and Severus just to prevent eating his heart out.

He’d thought about Karen so often these last few days he almost felt as if he knew her already. There was a trace of something special in her eyes, and he didn’t see that very often these days. He hadn’t seen anything like it since...Lily. Lily Evans. _No, it’s Lily Potter. Don’t do James an injustice by forgetting that._

He threw the report in his in-basket to deal with in the morning. It was no good trying to concentrate tonight.

Knowing how prone Dariah was to blame herself for all the Malfoy nonsense, he thought he’d seek her out, to make sure she wasn’t castigating herself over it. He had no doubt she would have heard by now; it was impossible to be at Hogwarts and not overhear the latest gossip.

After Apparating to the Forbidden Forest, he entered the castle and headed down to the dungeon rooms. Most of the students and faculty were in the Great Hall eating dinner, but he knew Severus and Dariah had been taking their meals in their rooms. Dariah was quite shy around the rest of the faculty, and wanted to keep a low profile. Lupin had warned her that to endeavor to blend into the woodwork at Hogwarts was tantamount to wearing a neon sign, but she preferred the isolation of the dungeons. He hoped it wasn’t the beginning of agoraphobia.

Listening carefully at the warded door, he hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything. He couldn’t take any more of that. He knocked, waiting for the sound of the wards being lifted.

Entering at Dariah’s welcome, he was happy to see the healthy color in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. Maybe she hadn’t heard yet. He accepted her offer of coffee, and sat down on the sofa next to her.

“Severus isn’t here?”

“No, he’s working in the lab. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” he said simply. “You look well. Rested; happy.”

“I am. I have to think about going home soon, but I keep putting it off. I really don’t want to leave.”

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

She smiled. “I do. I have to have my own life. I can’t do that here. But I’m enjoying my vacation from life, anyway.”

He frowned into his coffee. “I really hate to bring this up, but...have you heard about Malfoy?”

“Yes. I know he killed himself. Have you heard any details?”

“We got the report in from the Head Goblin at Azkaban. Malfoy had fashioned a noose out of his robes and, after attaching it to the bars of his cell, he somehow flung himself away, breaking his neck.”

She quietly digested this, and he gave her a moment of silence. She looked up at him. “Is that all you know about it?”

“What more is there to know?” This was a woman with something on her mind. How to draw her out?

“Like what caused him to do it?” she asked. “I mean, besides the obvious conclusion.”

“You think there was more to it?”

“I know there was.”

“Is there something you didn’t tell us about that night?” Seeing her hesitation, he added, “It will go no further, Dariah. I think we all want to put it behind us.”

She put her coffee cup down, turning to face him fully. “I made him do it, Remus.”

He was nonplussed. “How in the world could you have made him do it?”

“Some kind of Legilimency. Severus once told me what that was, and it sounds like what I’ve done.”

“While he was in Azkaban, and you were here?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible. There are things that must be considered, Dariah. After all, there is quite a bit of distance. Legilimency requires eye-contact.”

“So maybe it wasn’t Legilimency; it was something similar, though.”

“What exactly makes you believe you did it?”

“I could communicate with him. Mentally. I willed him to do it.”

“Have you talked to Severus about this?”

“Yes. He wants to hypnotize me to see what else I might be capable of.”

He was quiet as he thought about this new revelation. If what she said was true, it was beyond all the powers of Muggle clairvoyants. This little bit he knew. He’d been researching clairvoyance ever since he’d become aware of her skill.

“Dariah,” he began, not sure how to voice the question. “Does Albus know anything about this?”

“No. I don’t want him to.”

“I don’t blame you. If what you say is true, there’s no telling what the repercussions would be. But the reason I ask is because you...you don’t sound like a typical Muggle. If you can do this, it shows a power that Muggles can’t claim. I wonder if maybe you really are a witch, and just never knew it.”

“How could I not know it?”

“Many of our students don’t know about it until they get a letter from Albus when they’re eleven years old. An acceptance letter welcoming them to Hogwarts.”

“Then I would have gotten such a letter years ago. I never did, so I guess it means I really am a Muggle.”

At the sound of the door opening, Lupin looked up to see Severus entering. “Remus!” he said. “Good to see you.”

_Oh my, have we come a long way._ It hadn’t been so long ago that Severus would have shown nothing but displeasure to be in Lupin’s company.

“Dariah has just been telling me about her...talents,” he said. “Have you considered the possibility that she may be a witch?”

“Not seriously,” he admitted, glancing at Dariah. “Do you think you might be?”

“No. I think I would have known.”

“Possibly.”

“Severus, ever wonder how Albus always knows who to send the acceptance letters to?” Lupin asked.

“No, I haven’t. You don’t suppose he could have missed one, do you?”

“How can we find out?”

“That she’s a witch, or if Albus missed her?”

“That she’s a witch, of course. Who cares if Albus missed her? That’s history.”

“I don’t remember ever having a need to check that particular trait in anyone. The only one I can think who would is Albus. It would be interesting to find out how he knows who is magical and who isn’t. I’ve never known a Squib to be admitted by mistake, have you?”

“No. But I haven’t really paid that much attention. We need to talk to Albus.”

“And how do we do that without telling him why you’re asking?” Dariah asked. “I still don’t think I want him knowing what I did to Malfoy.”

Lupin took a long sip from his cup, thinking hard. “Okay, how about this. I go to Albus and say I suspect Dariah’s a witch because of...” He couldn’t think of anything, other than her admission to the mental link she’d shared with Malfoy.

“I think the first order of business is to find out what you really are capable of,” Severus said to her. “We may find something innocuous to take to Albus, as Remus has suggested.”

Lupin saw a blush creep up her face as she smiled at Severus. What had he missed? Severus was looking at her, trying for stern, but the laughter in his eyes gave him away. He thought he’d better not dwell on it; it was no doubt a shared secret between them, and definitely not for outsiders.

“Okay,” Dariah said. “This time you can hypnotize me.”

This time? Should he ask? He decided not to, as Severus looked at her in a way Lupin had always wanted someone to look at him. He thought maybe it was time to take his exit. “Okay, let me know whatever you learn about it, and then we can figure out what I go to Albus with. Unless it’s something you’d rather handle alone,” he added, not wanting to push in where he wasn’t needed or wanted.

“It might be better coming from you,” Severus said. “That way he can’t claim you’re biased. I rather doubt he’d take me seriously.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Had something happened to shake up the headmaster’s confidence in Severus’ judgment?

“I can’t help but think that if Dariah really is a witch, he’d already know. And in that case, since he hasn’t brought up the subject, he may feel we shouldn’t know. I’d really like to know if it’s possible he’d keep such a secret.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“He’s always rather protective of everyone, isn’t he?” Severus said. “If he thought it was better that she not know, or that I didn’t know, then he’d keep it to himself. It would be just like him to keep it secret until he figured out a way to use the information to his advantage.”

“You think he’s that manipulative?”

Severus just sneered and rolled his eyes. “As well as you know him, can you really ask?”

“Are you suggesting he’d use her against the Dark Wizards, like a tool? For the Order?”

“Yes, I am.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Severus told her. “It’s rather complicated.”

“I don’t know if I can believe--” Lupin began.

“Think of all that Potter went through while still a student here,” Severus argued. “Was it Albus’ protective nature, or was he skillfully playing a chess game, with all of us as pawns?”

“I never knew you were so cynical about him,” Lupin said, surprised. “I always thought you two were very close.”

“I think of him in better terms than my own father,” Severus agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t see his faults.”

It was something to think about. He looked up at the two of them, and thanking them for the coffee, he promised to keep in touch over the next few days. Dariah saw him to the door, and he hardly heard her good-bye as he left the castle.

* * * *

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the glow of the fireplace seeping in from the sitting room. Severus leaned back against his chair, contemplating what he’d just heard from Dariah, who was lying quietly on the bed, breathing deeply in the hypnotic trance he’d put her in.

She’d just finished telling him of the mysterious white-bearded stranger who’d spoken to her in the park. She’d been six years old, and had forgotten her parents’ admonition about speaking to strangers. She’d abandoned her friends at the swings and joined this old man on the bench, simply because he radiated goodness. She had appreciated his gentle voice, and the inner watchdog that was her intuition had told her he would do her no harm.

The man had asked her questions about what happened when she became angry or frustrated, and so she had told him of inexplicable happenings. The time when Billy Turrence flew down the steps at school right after he’d pushed her down. And when Mrs. Garrison, her neighbor, had a heart attack after hollering at her to stay out of her roses.

She’d told him about how all the windows in the garage had shattered when she found out her parents were never coming home again. The babysitter had screamed and grabbed her head after explaining to Dariah how the train had smashed the car they’d been driving.

The old man had nodded wisely. As Dariah had sat, waiting to see why the man was asking her these things, she’d remembered he was a stranger. She stood up to leave, intending to get home before her aunt had to come looking for her, when the man spoke again.

“I think it’s best if you forget these things,” he said. “Obliviate.”

She had just described to Severus how the world shot away from her at that moment; the force of something she didn’t understand had thrown her away from the old man to fall painfully on the grass near the swings. By the time she’d cleared her head and stood up, the man had disappeared, and soon after, the memory had left her conscious mind as well.

What did it all mean? He had little doubt it was Albus Dumbledore who’d approached the small girl that day. But why Obliviate her memories? Why deny the magical abilities in this child? Why not school her at Hogwarts when the time came? He’d never known Albus to turn anyone away before.

This woman was a witch, and Albus didn’t want her to know it.

He wondered if Albus had recognized her at the time of her arrest. If so, he’d given no sign of it. He’d known Severus was planning to hypnotize her to have her face her memories of her imprisonment at the Malfoy mansion. Why hadn’t he prevented Severus from digging into her subconscious? Had he wanted Severus to know?

He bade Dariah to sleep, and he left the dungeon rooms to track down the wily headmaster. He finally knew what questions to ask him.


	21. And What Now?

Chapter Twenty-one  
And What Now?

Albus was sitting behind his desk, apparently not surprised to see Severus at this late hour. Accepting the offer of whiskey, probably stolen from his own stock, Severus seated himself in the armchair next to the desk. “You know why I’m here, I trust?”

“I think I do,” Albus answered. “You’ve been probing into Dariah’s memories.”

“You know which memory I found, don’t you?”

“Let’s see if I remember...there was a park, children playing, a little girl in her second year of grammar school. Is that the one?”

“Your memory is better than hers, Headmaster.”

“I suppose you want to know why I did it.”

“Why else would I be here?”

“Severus,” the old man said tiredly. “Remember what it was like during that time. Voldemort was dead, so everyone thought. Most of his followers were in hiding--those who were not killed or imprisoned. You know I never believed it, don’t you? I knew he was still alive, building up his strength, desperate to survive. And, as always, searching for powerful minions for his cause.

“And Harry Potter was growing up in the home of his aunt. In the home of his _Muggle_ aunt, who would not teach him anything about his magic. She would save all that for me, when it was time. It was the perfect set-up; she wanted nothing to do with our world, and I wanted Harry to know nothing about it until he was ready.”

“What does all that have to do with Dariah?”

“I want you to compare the situations of the two. Her parents had pretended our world never existed. They were denying anything was different about Dariah; those incidents that were caused by Dariah were explained away by coincidence. They were raising her as any other Muggles would raise their child. Dariah knew nothing. And so I relaxed.

“However, when they were killed, Dariah’s aunt moved into their home to raise Dariah, in accordance with the wishes of Dariah’s mother. But this aunt was a witch, Severus. Her name was Ruth Lestrange.”

Severus choked on his whiskey. “Dariah is related to the Lestrange family?”

“Ruth and Dariah’s mother were cousins of Rodolphus. Ruth had known about Dariah’s powers for quite a while, but wasn’t sure how to proceed with her training. She wouldn’t have allowed me to bring her to Hogwarts. Oh, sure, I could have brought her here anyway, like I did Harry Potter, but I didn’t want to.”

“That’s what confuses me, Albus. Why not?”

“Her powers were too strong.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Haven’t you seen what she can do? I know why Malfoy killed himself, by the way. I’m sure she realized exactly what she’d done; therefore, I have to assume you know as well.”

“I thought the potion Malfoy was using on her opened up the telepathic route, which she later used to communicate with him.”

“That potion was useless. Have you forgotten how inept Lucius was with potions? He couldn’t brew a cup of tea.”

“So, she did this without any aid?” He pondered this. “She must have wanted very badly to communicate with him. But why?”

“She wanted him dead. She felt bad for castrating him and wanted to put it behind her. In her own way, it was the kindest thing she could have done for him. He would never have been the same, and since she couldn’t take it back, she simply ended it.”

Severus stood up and began pacing the area in front of Albus’ desk. “She wasn’t aware of having such a power, I know it.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Albus said. “Ruth was a hopelessly incompetent teacher.”

“She did try, though?”

“Yes, but every time she tried to train Dariah’s mind to work a certain way, Dariah rebelled. I believe she thought such things were the work of a demon and didn’t want to feel like a monster. She began turning away from her aunt, and this put Ruth at quite a disadvantage. You can’t force someone to learn the Dark Arts. And, I’m sure, Ruth was probably a bit wary of the powers she knew Dariah to have.”

“So, because she’d alienated Dariah, Dariah turned away from her teachings, too?”

“That is my take on it.”

“Then why were you so reluctant to allow her into Hogwarts when she was of age?”

“Ego. Fear.”

Severus sat down hard, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Severus, her powers rival my own. Even while she was untrained, I wasn’t sure I could control her. I am the headmaster of one of Europe’s finest schools of witchcraft and wizardry. It’s not a position I’ve ever taken lightly. But to have a student here, one who would never be intimidated by anything the average student fears; to have someone here whose will is so strong... I was afraid I wouldn’t be up to it. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to supervise her properly. She is so much more powerful than even you know.”

“You make her sound like a female Voldemort.”

“She is.”

Severus stood up, glaring angrily at Albus. “Dare you imply that--”

“No, Severus,” he interrupted. “She probably has no interest in taking over control of the magical world, like Voldemort wanted to do. That isn’t what I was worried about.”

Severus stood silently, waiting for the old wizard to continue.

“I’ve always had a great respect for Voldemort’s powers. I didn’t fear them, knowing I was more powerful, but I never underestimated him, either. I just never felt he could control me. With Dariah, I knew better. She was a child full of rage, losing her parents when she was far too young to learn to handle the power within her. By the time she could have come to me for guidance, she would have been out of control.”

“Did you know who she was? When you first began tailing Tachonas? Or when she was arrested by Lupin?”

“No. Not until we had her here while we searched her home and shop. It was then that I knew we shouldn’t have brought her here. But I began to think about things. Things I hadn’t thought much about since she was a child. And, from what I’ve seen, she’s not the same as she was back then. I began to think I’d done her a serious injustice, and I’d hoped that by keeping her here, you could right my wrong. I wanted you to know about her.”

“Why? Why is it so important for me to know all this? Do you think I’m going to be the one to chase her away? Are you mad?”

“I don’t think you should chase her away, Severus. I think you should hold on to her for all you’re worth. I think the two of you could be happy together for the rest of your lives. Did you think it was simply a convenience for you to be the one to protect her when we thought Malfoy would summon her? I knew what would happen, since you never stopped loving her during her entire ordeal. Even when you thought she was selling Ministry secrets, you couldn’t help but care.”

Severus helped himself to another whiskey, refilling Albus’ glass as well. The two quietly sipped while Severus tried to organize his thoughts.

“Are you concerned about her reaction to learning about your part in the way she’d grown up?”

“I don’t expect her to retaliate in a fit of temper, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t imagine I’ll be on her list of best friends, either.”

“What, exactly, do you see happening now?”

“I think you should take over the running of this school, when I retire. With her behind you, all the students here would be better protected from harm and the Dark Arts than they are now. With her clairvoyance and other powers, you’d have the knowledge and strength to prevent so many more students from turning to the Dark than I ever had.”

“Are you seriously going to retire?”

“Not until you feel you’re ready to take over, be it next week, or five years from now.”

“It’s an assigned post, Albus. The Ministry would never allow it. Besides, I would have thought Minerva would be in line for it. She has a lot more experience than I.”

“It’s the Board of Governors that appoints the headmaster. There are many there who are grateful Lucius is no longer there to control the voting and decisions they make. As a matter of fact, if Dariah ever decides to let the rest of the world know of her part in Malfoy’s demise, she’ll be an instant heroine. They’d probably want _her_ to take over.”

“Dariah has no knowledge of any of this.”

“She will soon, I don’t doubt. Do you Obliviate her after your hypnotic sessions?”

“This is only the second one, and no, I don’t. I hadn’t thought it necessary.”

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Albus said, his eyes twinkling once more. “She’d be upset if she ever found out about it in the future. You might sooner tease a full-grown hippogriff. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll keep a low profile until she forgives me for what I’d done all those years ago.”

Severus left the office, his mind busy with all he’d learned.

* * * *

Remus looked through the telescope at the stars once more, before the early hours of dawn took the sight of them away. He loved looking at the stars, savoring the irony in that someone like him would appreciate their astral beauty. He lived in hope that someday, some genius wizard or witch would invent a magical charm or potion that would allow him to worship the moon in the same way.

Hearing the shuffling footsteps behind him, he turned to thank Sinistra once again for providing him with access to the Astronomy Tower. But his thanks froze in his throat as he watched Dariah climb onto the parapet. Was she sleepwalking?

He raced over to her, grabbing her arm, and felt the sickening tearing of muscle and cartilage. Halfway over the parapet himself, he reached for her with his other arm. She was doing nothing to help him pull her up, and if that arm gave way...if he couldn’t get a better grip on her...

She never made a sound as he pulled her back onto the Tower, though the pain must have been intense. He looked into her eyes, shocked to see her harsh glare directed at him. He would have expected to see a more vacant look; he guessed she hadn’t been sleepwalking after all. What on earth was she doing up here, and why had she tried to throw herself off the Tower?

She sat down, her back against the wall, cradling her arm. He crouched before her, wondering if he dared touch her. Where the hell was Severus?

“Dariah,” he said, soothingly. “Why?”

She shut her eyes, letting her head fall back to the wall behind her. She sat so still that if not for the line in her forehead, indicating the depth of her emotions, he might think she’d passed out. He quietly waited her out, knowing she needed medical attention for her arm, but deciding it could wait until he had a better idea of how her mind was working.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said, finally.

“Malfoy isn’t worth this, you know that.”

“It isn’t Malfoy. It’s me.”

“You’re not a monster, Dariah. Remind Severus to tell you, in detail, all that Malfoy’s done to other people in his lifetime. By the time he finishes, you’ll want to attack him all over again, I promise you that.”

“You don’t understand. I couldn’t make you understand even if I tried. I don’t know the words that could explain what I feel. I don’t understand it myself. Not entirely. I just...the effort to go on...to just...to breathe...it’s too much. I want it all over with.”

“Dariah, where’s Severus?”

“I don’t know. He’s not downstairs.”

“When did you see him last?”

“Last night. He hypnotized me, then I slept. For a while. When I woke, he was gone.”

_So, they finally got around to that,_ he thought. “Dariah, what had you learned about yourself under hypnosis?” She remained silent. “Do you have powers that frighten you? Is that it?”

She bent forward, resting her head on her upraised knees, still cradling her injured arm. He touched her shoulder. “Let me take you to Poppy,” he said. “You need that arm taken care of.”

Her head shot up, pinning him with her glare. “Just my arm? Nothing else?”

“What else... Where else are you injured?” he asked.

“Nowhere. It’s just that having recently tried to jump off a tall building makes the psychiatric types come out of the woodwork. I have no intention of talking to anyone like that.”

Remus allowed himself a small chuckle, hoping to put her at ease. “Actually, the closest thing we have to a psychiatrist around here would be Albus.”

He couldn’t identify the look that crossed her face just then. Was she afraid of Albus? He helped her to her feet, carefully guiding her through the narrow doorway and down six flights of steps to the hospital wing. Poppy grumpily let them in, mumbling about no one having the sense to get injured during normal, waking hours. Remus left Dariah with her, then left to seek out the Potions Master.

* * * *

“Severus, she didn’t stand there, thinking about it. She flung herself off! I almost ripped off her arm, stopping her from falling to her death. I’ve never seen anyone more serious about killing herself!”

There was a straight-razor in Severus’ solar plexus area, spinning around, shredding his insides. It could only have been what she’d learned from her trance-induced memories that made her want to do this. Had she remembered things she didn’t want to tell him? Had he simply not asked the right questions?

He’d had moments in his past where suicide would have felt like a reward for a painful job well done. He remembered the despair, the hopelessness that his life would ever have meaning again. Is that what Dariah was feeling right now? How had he managed to get past those times? What had motivated him enough to continue? He wondered if he could share that with her, if he could help her find the reasons she needed to get on with her life, instead of waiting and hoping for death.

He stood, breathing deeply, willing the razor in his middle to stop, at least long enough to get him to the hospital wing. Remus followed him out, but when they reached the main stairway, he turned to his friend.

“Please leave us alone, Remus,” he asked kindly. “I don’t know what I’m going to say, or what she’s feeling. There are things I’m not sure she’ll want to talk about. With me or with anyone else.”

“Understood,” Remus answered. “I’m only a Floo away, if either of you need anything. Anything.”

Severus continued on to the hospital wing. He paused at the doors leading to the ward, gathering his wits as the huge clock behind him chimed the early morning hour. He pushed open the doors and entered.

She was sitting up in her bed, her right arm in a sling. She watched him approach; clearly, she had expected him. He could see nothing in her eyes to indicate whether she was glad to see him or if she’d rather have thrown him off the roof before she followed.

He sat at the edge of her bed, studying her, waiting for her to speak.

“He’s a puppet master,” she said. There was no need for her to clarify. He knew who she meant.

“Yes.”

“If, during your days as a Death Eater, you would have been killed, would he have mourned your passing?”

“Yes, I think he would have. And then he would have found a replacement. The fight against the Dark wizards was so overpowering, he could have done nothing else.”

“You defend him, in spite of how he’d used you?”

“Yes. Not for everything,” he added. “But for how he used me, yes. He had no choice. I was the only one in a position to do it. I knew enough about the Dark Lord and Hogwarts to satisfy both sides. I had no family. I’m an expert in making the valuable potions the Dark Lord needed and to teach here. I felt enough guilt and shame for my part in the death of the Potters that I wanted to atone. I am skilled at Occlumency and Legilimency. All the necessary ingredients for the making of a dependable spy.”

“I remember everything, Severus. He made my entire life a sham.”

“Not true, Dariah. There’s nothing wrong with the way you grew up. You turned out quite well. And you’re young; you can take it back now. He wants you to.”

“You make it sound like I needed his permission to do that.”

“He knows you don’t need his permission. Dariah, he claims that you’re as powerful as he is.”

“Rubbish.”

“You’re untrained. He was afraid that to bring you here for education would have been his downfall; that you would be a threat to our entire world. It all boiled down to the strength of your powers.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

“I do. The war is over. The Dark wizards still running loose are easily enough dealt with. He no longer feels he has to be ever on the defense. He wants to retire.”

“So, now it’s all right that I get my memory back? How sweet of him.”

“Dariah, you are still the same woman you were yesterday. Nothing has changed.”

“I’m different now, Severus. Yesterday I was a Muggle. Today I’m a witch. A year ago, I would have been happy to learn that. Today, I’m disgusted.” She frowned, thinking. “I haven’t kept in touch with Aunt Ruth,” she said. “She raised me after my parents died. I wonder what became of her. She’s probably in Azkaban.”

“We can find out, if you like,” he said. What had she in mind? A warm family reunion? Was she remembering the things Ruth had tried to teach her? Was that the education she had in mind?

He leaned forward, cupping her face in his hand, searching for the answers in her eyes. His thumb brushed away a tear, and the eyes that regarded him were filled with pain. He didn’t think it was the Dark Arts she wanted. “Don’t shut me out, Dariah,” he pleaded. “Let me help you deal with all this. I’ve been there; I’ve even been on that Tower once or twice, thinking it over. Don’t throw your life away because a long time ago, one old man was afraid of the power he saw in you.”

The tears spilled over, and he moved closer so he could pull her to his chest. He cradled her in his arms, letting her cry out her pain and rage, knowing it was the first step she needed to regain control of her life. He was intimidated by the lost child soaking his robes with her tears, and he held her tightly. Once the rage took over, he’d probably never see this waif again; he knew the part of him that felt protective toward her would miss the passing.

* * * *

She sat, half-reclined, on the sofa, Severus across from her on the chair. She couldn’t escape the feeling of suffocation, the overwhelming sense of blackness that enshrouded her like a heavy, mold-infested blanket. She thought back to the fleeting moment of freedom she’d felt before the pain hit her, when Remus prevented her flight from the Tower. She could have been rid of this feeling, could have been dead more than two hours ago.

So, yes, part of what she felt now was anger and frustration at being forced to live long enough to deal with this situation. Her mind just wanted to shut down; it was too much to process.

But part of her was glad to be alive, with Severus sitting right there, his concern for her obvious. How could she ever have thought of leaving him? She noted the lines in his face; more deeply etched now that he was struggling to understand how she felt. He wanted so much to take her pain away from her. She mentally pulled herself together and fought to put into words everything that she had in her heart.

“I feel like he took my life away from me,” she started. “Like because of what he did all those years ago, that he’d forced me to live my life the way he planned. I had no choice in it. He shouldn’t have had the power to affect my life so much.

“You know what really depressed me about my imprisonment at Malfoy’s? He was telling me that not only would I come to him whenever he wanted me, but that I’d want to. He was mapping out my life, just like Dumbledore did. And Aunt Ruth tried the same thing, telling me how to think, how to feel, as if I had no mind of my own. It was brainwashing, all over again. I just don’t think I want to live in a world where it’s so easy for someone to have that kind of power over someone else. Mutter a few words, wave a wand...all of a sudden, I may as well not be alive; I could be a wooden puppet and live the same life.”

“You could be a part of the force that’s fighting it,” he said. “There are many of us who feel the way you do. And it shouldn’t be so easy. That’s part of what the fight is all about. And it’s ongoing. There will always be someone who wants that same power. You could learn to use your magic, now that you know it’s there. You could take over where Albus leaves off.”

“How? By forcing my will on someone else? I would become what I hate so much. I’d be up on that Tower, wondering why I didn’t succeed the first time.”

As Severus moved to sit next to her on the sofa, she pulled in her legs to give him room. Leaning into him, tucking her head under his chin, she drew warmth and strength from him as she searched for the words to tell him what she was feeling right now. He had to know; he had to be her anchor. She’d never manage to keep her sanity if he didn’t understand, if he didn’t know how to help her.

“I don’t blame Dumbledore, or Aunt Ruth for the monster I could become.”

“Dariah...”

“Severus, please don’t argue that. We both know it’s possible. If you deny it, I’m not going to be able to rely on you to know me for what and who I truly am. I need for you to know that about me. About the darkness. It’s a part of me. I know you understand it, because of your own past. I realize we all have something in us that we don’t like to acknowledge, but we find a way of living with it. I’m not as strong as you; I need to know that someone else, that you know that part of me. And that you don’t hold it against me.”

“I can’t conceive of that. Especially as you know about the darkness in me. I’ve never felt that you held it against me. I do understand, Dariah.”

“Do you, really? Do you understand the satisfaction I felt when I pushed my classmate down the stairs from across the hallway? The pleasure I felt when I heard him crying? Do you know how good it felt to break all the windows in my garage in a fit of temper when I realized my parents died and left me all alone? Can you understand the power I felt when I told Malfoy to hang himself? It’s kind of like an aphrodisiac, isn’t it?”

She felt his arms tighten around her. “Do you remember the remorse you felt afterward?” he reminded her. “As I recall, that’s the feeling you carried around with you, and for a lot longer than any thrill you felt at accomplishing what he’d been trying to do without success.”

She wrapped her arm around his neck, holding on, trying to keep from drowning. “Severus, I’m so tired. Love me. Take me to bed; just love me.”

She relished the feel of his strong arms, carrying her into the bedroom. She lay back passively as he slowly undressed her. No magic. Just a drawn out, comforting ritual, he removed one piece of clothing at a time, all the while soothing her with his voice, his words. Inflaming her with his comforting, yet captivating hands.

They made love slowly, both drawing from the other, both giving what they could. He held her tightly afterward, and as she drifted off to sleep, she felt safe in his arms. Safe and loved, and inspired to learn to live with the monster inside of her.


	22. Acceptance

Chapter Twenty-two  
Acceptance

Dariah leaned forward at the table to better hear the man sitting across from her. “So, you sold out to the old man,” Anderson was saying, a laugh in his voice and a twinkle in his eye. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Pay him no mind, Dariah,” piped Remus. “He’s bitter because he wouldn’t mind that job himself.”

“Damn straight!” the Auror said happily. “It’s got to be easier than what I do for a living.”

“Oh, here we go--the poor, misunderstood hero. You love your work!”

“No, I only like the women who go ape-shit when they find out what I do. That’s why I got into this stuff in the first place,” he added with a wink, yelping as his girlfriend’s shoe met his leg under the table. “Blimey, woman, you keep kicking me like that and you won’t have a dance partner.”

“I don’t have one now,” she complained.

“Okay, let’s dance then. I don’t want to hear you whining about it all night.” He led his date out to the dance floor, leaving Remus to drool at Karen, Dariah and Severus watching in amusement.

“Don’t mind my brother,” she apologized. “He tends to let his hair down after a couple of drinks.”

“And what about you?” Remus asked Karen. “What does it take to let your hair down?”

Dariah smiled at Severus’ snort. “That’s so smooth, Remus,” he said. “Why don’t you just ask her what her sign is?”

Remus grinned unabashedly, and tugged on Karen’s hand until she followed him to the dance floor. Dariah looked at Severus, smiling widely. “And what’s amusing you, woman?” he drawled, trying to look put out.

“You are,” she answered readily. “This isn’t exactly your sort of place, is it? Did you drag me out here thinking it would do me some good?”

“You know me too well,” he agreed. “So tell me, what is my kind of place?”

“I’d rather show you.”

She took delight in the flare of interest in his eyes. She urged him to follow her, waving goodbye to the rest as they made their way through the loud, bustling pub out to the quiet of the evening street. It was a relief to be in the cool air after the overcrowded din within.

“And what did you have in mind?” he asked her.

“There’s a little place in London,” she said, “where no matter how crowded it gets, you have your own personal little world. We can actually have a conversation; we can choose the music we listen to; we’ll have more privacy than you’d imagine any Muggle nightclub would allow.”

“And how is it you know of such a place?”

She winked, decided it was better to keep him guessing. She wouldn’t want him to take her for granted, would she? “Allow me,” she said, tucking her arm in his. She Apparated them, showing off her newly learned skill, to the alley next to the nightclub she’d been thinking of.

They wound up in a quiet booth, where a waiter took their drinks order and disappeared, only to return less than a minute later with whiskey for him, brandy for her. The background music was quiet and soothing. She was glad to be here; she hadn’t realized how the walls had been closing in on her at Hogwarts.

“So, are you ready to fill the young minds of the upcoming fall term with knowledge?” he asked.

“I’m as ready as I shall ever be,” she answered. “I suppose it’s not a difficult class. Muggle studies. I’ve been training for it all my life.”

“Are you still bitter toward Albus?”

“It’s impossible,” she admitted. “There’s just something about him...maybe it’s his twinkling blue eyes.”

He smiled. “You know Minerva will be taking over for him soon, don’t you?”

“I understand he offered the job to you, first.”

“I’m not prepared to run the school,” he said. “She’ll do a much better job. Besides, the Ministry doesn’t trust me.”

“They gave you an Order of Merlin medal after the war, didn’t they?”

“Only because if they didn’t, the public would have noticed the oversight. Albus made sure that some of what I did in the war became public knowledge. But they think if given a free rein, I’ll change the curriculum to include some Dark Arts studies.”

“Would you?”

“Only to the point where the students would recognize what’s out there. I still feel that better informed is better armed. Still, there will always be those who take their studies a bit farther than the classroom, so I do actually see the Ministry’s point.”

“So, you’re not disappointed about not being the new headmaster?”

“Not in the least. I’m afraid it would keep me so busy that I wouldn’t be able to find the time for more enjoyable things.” His eyes traveled slowly over her, lingering on her low neckline, staring at the straining nipples she knew were visible through the silk of her dress.

She scooted to sit closer to him. Knowing no one else would be able to see them, she slowly moved her hand from his knee to his thigh, loving the feel of his muscles tensing under her hand. He combed his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her neck so he could nibble at the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, and ran a fingernail lightly against the bulge in his trousers.

As she felt his hand on her breast, she sighed and cupped him, rubbing slightly. He moaned against her neck, and she began working on the buttons of his fly. His hand stilled hers, as he looked around the club, beyond their darkened booth. She laughed softly.

“Severus, don’t worry. No one is watching us. They’re kind of busy themselves, I shouldn’t wonder.”

She’d freed his hard cock, and he lost interest in the world around them as she stroked. Loving the feel of the hardness under the flesh, she played, her own pulse quickening with his rapidly increasing breaths, his soft moans. She loved it when he tried so hard to control his reactions but couldn’t. _Now this is power,_ she thought. _This is the true aphrodisiac._

She lightly rubbed her finger over the head of his cock, spreading around the wetness there, her touch getting lighter and lighter until he gasped out loud in protest. As she leaned over him, tasting him, he groaned and she felt him push away the table in front of them to give her more room.

Cupping his balls in her hand, she pulled them upward, pressing them to his shaft. His hands were in her hair, moving it away so he could watch what she was doing.

“Dariah...” She could hear the strain in his voice. God, but his voice was so exciting. “Dariah, what if the waiter comes back?”

“Do you want me to stop?” She made sure her questions caused her breath to blow across his cock, wet from her mouth. She smiled at his moan.

“Gods, no, don’t stop. Don’t... _OH,_ yessss...”

She could feel her own wetness begin to trickle out. This man could do so much to her just by allowing her to hear how she made him feel. She sat up and quickly moved to straddle him, guiding him into her. She felt a surge of pleasure hit her as his eyes widened when he realized she’d worn nothing at all under her dress.

She rode up and down, moving her hips, searching for just the right angle. Each adjustment she made brought forth another barely controlled gasp or moan from Severus, and she worked her body against his, no longer searching for that special spot. She’d rather prolong this as long as she could, getting off on his excitement.

She felt his hands on her bare legs, moving up to her hips under her dress. He held her, guiding her in harmony with the rocking and thrusting of his own hips. His movements were getting faster, piston-like, and she knew he was close. She looked into his eyes, seeing how deeply he felt their passion. It spurred her on, and she felt the first tell-tale wave of heat coursing through her, and knew he felt it as he gasped in her ear. Oh, oh, yes, he’d found that spot that had eluded her earlier; he was so good...

She felt the first convulsions hit her, the friction going up and up and her orgasm slammed her hard; she was barely aware of calling out his name, but did hear her name on his lips, the harsh and ragged sound of her name in her ear. He thrust so deeply and she could feel the heat of his juices shooting into her. She rode the waves of pleasure until she became aware once more of the club around her. Smoothly floating back down to earth again, she leaned her forehead against his, both of them trying to catch their breath. He seemed to recover first.

“I fear we may have become quite vocal,” he said, not sounding as though he really cared.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “These booths are soundproof.”

“How is it, exactly, that you know so much about this place? Who have you been here with?”

“No one. This is my first visit.”

“Then how do you--”

“Marcus. He told me about it.”

“Has he invited you here?”

“No. Marcus and I have never been more than friends. But surely you don’t want a list of my former lovers, do you?”

“Would you prepare such a list for me?”

“No. I think it’s important that I retain an aura of mystery.”

He smiled against her neck. She kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that spoke more than any words she could form. Moving off his lap, she tried to put her dress in order, but realized that a quick trip to the ladies’ was in order. Excusing herself, she moved around to the other side of the booth so she could leave the table. But he rose with her, and followed her out. Of course, he’d need to take care of things as well, she supposed. Not knowing it was a club that catered to wizards and witches, he was loath to use his wand.

As they passed the dance floor, he pulled her into his arms and waltzed across the floor with her. It felt so good to be in his arms, despite the wetness that was threatening to drip noticeably down her legs. He led her toward the back, obviously figuring that was where the restrooms would be located.

They stopped, looking to the middle of the floor, where there was quite a commotion going on. “Traitor!” a voice called. There was a wizard standing in the center of the crowd, aiming a wand at Severus. Caught completely off-guard, she hoped desperately that Severus didn’t go for his wand. The slightest move from him would guarantee an Unforgivable Curse, and her mind raced, trying to plan a way out of this. Who the hell was this wizard?

“Flint. I thought I’d have the dubious pleasure of running into you again someday.” Severus’ lazy drawl was convincing, and Dariah doubted anyone else could hear the nervousness underneath it.

Flint held Severus’ gaze as the club erupted into panicked wizards, witches and the odd Muggle or two, who all had run in disorganized paths, looking for an exit.

She began to concentrate, not knowing if what she had in mind was possible. From the corner of her eye, she saw Severus’ eyes leave Flint and he looked at her, frowning. He was aware of what she was doing, then. But now she had Flint in her mental sights, and she forced her stronger will onto him. She felt her power leaving her in waves, and she aimed them at the malevolent wizard in front of them.

She was only mildly surprised when he turned his wand on himself, muttering, “Avada Kedavra”.

He fell instantly to the floor, and even before Severus leaned over to check for a pulse, she knew what she’d done. It was Malfoy all over again, but without the hypnosis. So where was the fear and loathing she’d felt then? Why was it different now?

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to still the sudden trembling. It wasn’t the deed that shook her up; it was knowing that she felt better about it. It seemed to be getting easier each time.

What did that make her?

* * * *

Severus looked up, nodding at her. Flint was dead. He looked around at the few remaining people. They were looking from Flint to Dariah; they knew, or at least had an idea, of what happened. He studied their faces, using Legilimency whenever he made eye contact to assess their emotions. The general feeling was that of awe, even admiration.

He turned, seeing Dariah enter a room at the far end of the club. He followed anxiously, not knowing what she was thinking at this moment. He pushed into the ladies’ room with only the slightest hesitation. She was just coming out of one of the stalls. He studied her expression, but it didn’t tell him what he needed to know.

“Dariah? Do you know who that was?”

“Flint.”

“That’s only a name, Dariah. Do you know him?”

“No.”

“He’s the one the Ministry and the Order have been searching for. We’ve been searching for him since the war, knowing he’d be the one that would try to take over after the Dark Lord had been killed. Even Malfoy didn’t know where he was.”

“He was going to kill you, Severus.”

“Yes, he would have.” He waited, wanting her to know she did the right thing. She stood, looking at him, but he couldn’t read her eyes. He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. “Dariah, it was right. It was the right thing to do.”

She said nothing, but he could feel a slight trembling as reaction finally set in. He smoothed his hands down her back, whispering nonsensical words in her ear. He felt her take a deep breath, and knew she was rallying back. She pulled away slightly, offering him a tremulous smile. He took her chin in his hand, running his thumb over her bottom lip. Looking deeply into her eyes, he willed her to see that the world had not turned upside-down; that everything was the same, except that there was one less Dark wizard in their midst.

She turned away, leaning against the sink. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, breathing in the scent of her hair. She leaned back against him, covering his arms with hers, drawing strength from him. He looked at her in the mirror, waiting until she met his eyes. “Dariah, tell me you’re not thinking of yourself as a monster.”

She dropped her eyes, and he blew out an impatient breath. He reached up to take her chin in his hand once again, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. “How can you think of yourself that way, when I love you so much? Could I love a monster?”

Her eyes widened slightly, the warmth in them reflected in the mirror. She looked directly at her reflection. He saw her smile sadly, but he also saw the strength in that smile. She was going to be all right. She took a deep breath, and at her words, he knew he could stop worrying.

“I think I’m someone I can live with,” she said simply.

He put his arm around her shoulder and walked her out into the club, into the night, back to their home at Hogwarts.


	23. Epilogue: The World Goes On

Epilogue  
The World Goes On

Dariah rubbed her temples, striving for patience. She could feel a headache building; her ears were far too sensitive for this. She looked over at the cause of the noise, smiling at the sight. Severus was holding Sirius upside-down, pretending to lose his grip. The toddler screamed with laughter, trusting “Uncle Severus” not to drop him. She wondered wryly if he’d ever been tempted. But at least she found the patience she’d been looking for. She’d be willing to bet that the Severus she saw at times like these, babysitting Remus’ and Karen’s son, was the boy he’d been so many years ago.

The boy was charming, just like his father. Remus had left his son here for the week, so he could treat Karen to the honeymoon they hadn’t gotten around to when they’d married three years ago. They’d Apparated to the Greek Islands, where Remus planned to spend most nights staring at the moon. He never stopped thanking Severus for the breakthrough potion that had cured him of his malady once and for all. And now Severus’ Eximo Bestia Potion had made him a household name. There were several former werewolves around who would probably give their lives in gratitude.

She felt proud of the public opinion of her husband. The wizard who’d spent most of his life being either loathed or ignored by the public he’d served was now being made uncomfortable by the effusive praises of that same public. She knew he’d never get used to it, but she also noticed that it had inspired him to greater research. Since he now taught only the NEWT level courses in Potions, he had much more time to spend in his lab.

She blew her hair away from her eyes, focusing once more on the paperwork before her. She’d been studying the profiles of the newest batch of students to enter Hogwarts for the last three hours. Her eyes were beginning to blur. Minerva, taking her position as the new headmistress of Hogwarts very seriously, had come up with the plan to form psychological profiles of all students in her care, so Dariah could study them and decide which ones would need close watching. Minerva naively assumed that a penchant for the Dark Arts might show up in the profiles, and Dariah couldn’t convince her otherwise.

She tossed the folder into her desk drawer, deciding it was the students themselves she needed to watch, not their written profiles. Most of them would take her Muggle Studies course in their third year, and she’d be better prepared to assess them at that time. First years were too awed by their first impressions of Hogwarts to show their true natures anyway.

She approached Severus and Sirius, “rescuing” little Sirius from the big, bad wizard’s clutches, and the boy squealed with delight as Severus chased them around the garden. His parents thought the boy was a Squib. The way he held his toy wand to fight off Severus told Dariah differently. He was a natural. Well, maybe he was just too young to show off any magical abilities. He had an easy, carefree life. _Let him face some real difficulties, and we’ll see just how magical he is._

Dariah knew there was magic in Sirius. She hesitated to tell Karen, because she’d seemed happy about the lack of talent in her son. Though she, herself, was a witch, her closeness to her brother and his work, and now her husband’s work, had caused her to want a simpler life for her son. Remus obviously couldn’t care one way or the other, so perhaps he’d be the one to talk to about it.

Or, they could simply wait until he was eleven, when Minerva would send him a letter welcoming him to Hogwarts.

She brought the boy into the kitchen with her, making a play of warding the doors against the approach of the evil dark wizard. Now they had to brew a potion for dinner, and she engaged his help in doing so. Severus had looked like he could use a break.

As they later ate the dinner Sirius had “helped” prepare, she looked over at Severus, catching his eye and feeling the instant glow of warmth inside at his look. It wasn’t until after they’d been married a couple of months that she’d found out what hatred had been between Remus and Severus since their youth. It actually frightened her a little to know how long he’d carried that animosity inside him, and that it took dealing with her problems of the time to bring them closer together. Close enough that Remus, the over-protective father, felt confident leaving his only son in their care.

She could see that Severus would make a wonderful father. If he could befriend the shy and sometimes suspicious boy named after one of Severus’ greatest late enemies, then he’d already proven he didn’t detest children as much as he’d always claimed.

Her hand dropped down to her belly, wondering if this would be a good time to tell him.

* * * *

Severus closed the door to the guest room, willing Sirius not to awaken until morning. He was a great kid, but he had more energy than he was entitled to. He entered the master bedroom, opening the draperies at the window so they could watch the stars. It had become a nightly ritual for them.

He glanced over at the bathroom door, knowing she’d be out soon; the sound of running water had stopped. He turned down the quilt, placing a rose on her pillow. As she came out of the bathroom, he entered it, dropping a quick kiss on her bare shoulder on his way past. A quick shower, then he planned to show her what playtime really was; forget young Sirius’ ideas on the subject.

He toweled off quickly, reaching for his wand for a quick shave. Pulling a comb through his hair, he was again surprised by the near-stranger he saw looking at him from the mirror. She’d finally talked him into a different haircut, and once he agreed, she did it herself. He’d never realized how different he would look with his hair away from his face. And it was less troublesome, as well. Layered now, it seemed to stay out of his eyes better this way. No more need for the greasy tonic he’d been using all those years.

He re-entered the bedroom, taking in the sight of her lying back on the bed, rose stem between her teeth. The top-sheet was lying lightly over her breasts, almost not covering her. One deep breath and it would slip away. As he watched, she took that deep breath, and he was treated to the slightest hint of the beauty under it. Did she know how much of a tease she was?

They’d been married now for just over fourteen months. He knew he’d never tire of her; he hoped she’d never tire of him. Sometimes he wondered if she’d finally agreed to marry him just to prove she still wanted him in her life. Certainly, if things were left up to her, they wouldn’t be married even now. Knowing it was because she still had reservations about the darker side of herself, he’d pursued her relentlessly, only partly because he’d needed a magical commitment between them so he could stop waiting for her to leave. That was the burden he carried with him; the refusal to believe she’d stay because she wanted to, not because she had to. It was still hard for him to let go of the idea that anything good in his life was destined for failure.

He slid between the sheets, moving close to her and sliding his hand over her midriff. He was gentle, wondering when she was going to tell him about her pregnancy. As she turned to him, tossing the rose over her shoulder, he idly wondered if he should act surprised when she finally told him, or should he let her know that he could tell? There was nothing about her that he didn’t notice, and the tell-tale signs of early pregnancy were apparent to him, who sometimes thought about nothing but her body.

She slid her body over his, and he felt her hot lips on his neck, the soft velvet of them igniting him with a quick flare of passion. He smoothed his hands slowly down her ribs, spanning her waistline, cupping her rear. He repeated the motion, loving the feel of her flawless skin under his calloused hands. She began to move off him, and he looked quickly at her, wondering if he’d hurt her somehow. But she smiled, pulling him down to her.

He nibbled at her lips, his hands moving to hold the heavy weight of her breast. He played his thumb over her nipple, lightly squeezing her firm breast in his hand. He felt her quick intake of breath, and he immediately stilled his hand. Leaning back slightly, he looked into her eyes. He’d forgotten how tender her breasts must be, and he mentally kicked himself.

“You know, don’t you?” she asked accusingly.

“I suspected.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

She smiled ruefully. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. We’ve never discussed this and I wasn’t sure how you’d react to it.”

He smiled widely, remembering all the grousing he’d done about the children of Hogwarts. “Any child of ours would have to be an improvement over other people’s children,” he said smugly. “Intelligent, witty, handsome, if he takes after you, brave, remarkable...”

“Right. Tell me all this after we have to deal with middle-of-the-night feedings and toilet training.”

“Dariah, how do you feel about having a baby? My baby?”

She smiled lazily. “I’m quite looking forward to it. Especially since he’s yours. Of course, I have no idea what to do about a babysitter for when I go back to work. He’ll come sometime in March, so I’ll have until late summer before I have to worry about it. He’ll be about five months old. By the way, why is there no daycare at Hogwarts?”

He laughed out loud. “You are, by far, the only witch on the faculty still in her child-bearing years! Most of them don’t have families, let alone children young enough to still need daycare.”

She shut her eyes sheepishly. “I never thought about it,” she said. “I suppose I’ll have to start looking around for someone.”

“We’ll find someone reliable, don’t worry. Besides, Karen isn’t planning to work; perhaps we can ask her if she’s up for it?”

“I hope so,” she agreed. “I don’t want strangers raising our child. So you don’t mind that I want to keep working?”

“I can’t imagine you _not_ working,” he answered. “The only time this cottage seems too small is when you get bored and start bouncing off the walls.”

“Do you think we’ll have to find a bigger place?”

“I’d like to. Not so much to get more room; we could add an extension here. However, we’re too close to Knockturn Alley for my comfort. I’d be afraid to let him run loose outdoors.”

“Where would you like to live, Severus? Knowing we could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“Some place with a lot of greenery; a quiet village. Lots of other young children around so he won’t be lacking in friends. Enough privacy when we want it. Perhaps somewhere in Ireland?”

“I’d love that. And that won’t be a problem with our Hogwarts duties?”

“Not as long as we can Apparate or Floo easily. With all the new staff members Minerva’s hired lately, we won’t be pulling hall monitoring duties any more often than once every five or six weeks.”

“We can put this cottage on the market, I suppose. Or should we? We could always rent it out. I almost hate to give it up.”

“We won’t have to give it up. No one else who would live here would appreciate the perfectly shaped hollow in the yard that was made for star-gazing.”

His own words reminded him of what they’d been doing. He smoothed his hand carefully over her again, noting with pleasure that he’d found the right amount of pressure to incite her without hurting the tenderness in her early-stages-of-pregnancy body.

* * * *

The weeks blended into each other. Dariah had spoken to Minerva about her pregnancy, and although Minerva promised to keep it to herself until they’d made a semi-public announcement, Dariah suspected that at least a few others on staff were aware. It didn’t bother her; she didn’t know the proper etiquette for a pregnant witch anyway. Plans were made to have a substitute professor take over her Muggle Studies classes when Dariah stopped working, probably sometime in February.

Her body was changing at an alarming rate. She suddenly found she had an appetite for the strangest foods; strange to her Muggle palate, anyway. She didn’t know what hertandis was until her instincts led her to them while shopping for groceries one day. It was some sort of nut, unknown in the Muggle world, but her baby wanted them. She supposed such a craving meant little Silas or Storm would definitely be a wizard or witch. Would a Squib demand such nutrition?

And she didn’t know what to think of her raging hormones. It was kind of embarrassing the way she practically lunged at Severus at the wink of an eye, the drop of a hat. So far, he’d never failed to come through, and she wondered if his sex drive had increased along with hers out of sympathy or self-defense.

They’d found the perfect house just outside of Dublin; with a flick of his wrist, Severus had created in it a basement, where he designed the perfect Potions lab for himself. With the Muggle electricity wired through it, it was an improvement over his dungeon lab, and she was happy that he spent most of his time at home working on his research. He was only at the castle long enough to teach NEWT Potions and for the odd staff meeting. She was amused to find out that he’d bribed Filch into taking over his patrol duties.

She was filling out her robes, but it would still, hopefully, be a few months before she’d have that disgusting little waddle that men found amusing, but women who’d been there sympathized with. And every time Karen and Remus visited, Dariah received another sack full of clothes and toys that young Sirius had outgrown. The two, who were Dariah’s and Severus’ best friends, had happily agreed to be the baby’s godparents, much like Dariah and Severus had become Sirius’ godparents, and Karen assured Dariah that she would have been offended if Dariah hadn’t asked her to babysit for the fall term next year.

She folded the last of the laundry, having insisted to Severus that she wanted to continue her Muggle method of doing household chores. She wasn’t sorry she was a witch, but they were, in fact, living among Muggles. It wouldn’t do for her to lose her touch. And this mindless sort of work was just what her overactive brain sometimes needed for release.

She stood, looking out the window at the view. On a fogless day like today, she could see clear into Dublin; it was quite a sight. She felt the smile start deep within her, and let it come to her lips. Yes, sometimes she felt the beast inside her spring to attention, but she knew she could control it. It came in handy for her extra Order duties. Whenever they came across another Malfoy or Flint, and the Ministry tied the hands of the Aurors while Fudge worried about criminals’ rights, she simply did her thing and Fudge was none the wiser. She supposed it was wrong, taking the law into their own hands, but the Order existed to keep their world safe. There was just no room for liberal-minded politics.

She knew she’d refuse her skill if it weren’t for the clairvoyance. There had been wizards that were up on charges of dabbling in the Dark Arts who had, in fact, had more innocent intentions. These wizards simply served some time in Azkaban and were released, wiser for their experience. But Dariah would never forget the vileness of a true Dark wizard; that horrible mass of evil within them. All she had to do was touch them to remove any doubts about what she did.

She’d found a way of living. She smoothed her hands over her growing baby, waiting to hear the pop from Severus’ approach. _They’d_ found a way of living.

And they’d continue to do so, no matter what life threw at them.


End file.
